The Secrets Between
by puzzlepuzzle
Summary: Sequel to The Isle: When Athrun Zala returns to Orb and to be with Cagalli Yula Atha, they find themselves embroiled in a war that's of a nature and extent that they neither expect nor have any certainty of winning.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

**

A/N: Well, here's to the start of what will hopefully be as enjoyable as The Isle. I found myself really inspired by Maaya Sakamoto's Yubiwa, and I recommend listening to it (just search Youtube already!) and reading this at the same time. I hope you enjoy and look forward to more!

**Newest: The Secrets Between fanart and poster can be found on the profile page!**

PP

**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

* * *

**

Within the school grounds, there was a stretch of area that the teachers referred to as the playground. It was no such thing, of course. The youngest student here was thirteen, and the oldest sixteen. They were far too mature to want things like sandboxes, preferring instead to gossip, to play football, and to giggle and trade love letters if they were girls. That said, the students here did enjoy swinging from knobbly, thick ropes attached to a steel frame from time to time.

There was no clear divergence in the group present at the playground. Granted, some of the kids had incredibly beautiful, almost unnatural features with perfect smiles, bright hair and creamy skin, while some of the others looked far more normal and average. For most of the students, however, classifying them according to their genetic heritage was difficult. Nobody minded much if one was a Coordinator or Natural—everything was mishmashed these days, especially in Orb.

Almost as a tribute to that, the students mixed around, playing tag and all sorts of other things, shouting merrily and attacking their lunches with the kind of appetite and enthusiasm that was expected of hungry teenagers.

Moving from one group of friends to the other, it never struck the fourteen year old Kaye Humbert that for a long time, there had been bloodshed between Coordinators and Naturals. He was nearing fifteen this year, and he was not too young to not know, unlike some of the other children who'd been born after the war. His mother had always warned him of the past and how easily people tended to make mistakes they thought they'd never make again. She'd been afraid for him and sent him away. For that purpose, he'd learned how to defend himself by hurting others if need be.

Of course, that wasn't relevant anymore.

It was a new world here in Orb and the size and variety of life here had startled him. Frankly, it startled him even now, because he he'd never thought that he would have so many playmates and people of his age. The biggest concern for most of the boys was getting picked for teams or being rejected by their crushes, and for the girls, they were mostly caught up with appearances and gossip and things like that. There was homework and grades too, of course. But they didn't need to train or to keep secrets or things like that—they were careless and very happy.

He liked being one of them.

"Kaye!" Tia was calling to him. She looked pretty with her hair in a sprightly pony tail, and he found himself blushing when she smiled right at him. "Jerome wants to know if you're free to join the other student councilors this weekend."

He hurried over to them. Mr. Estragon would be here in Orb permanently, and he'd made plans to meet him and Cagalli over the weekend. "I don't think so…"

"Aww, Kaye, try and make it!" His friends were looking pleadingly at him.

Jerome slapped Kaye's back. "I'm cooking burgers—don't say you don't want them!"

"Eh—I have to meet Mr. Es—," He stopped himself. While Kaye knew that Rune Estragon was really just a name like Kaye Humbert for the real person, Kaye hadn't been able to get used to calling him by any other name. Besides, Kaye had learnt enough to know that revealing that he knew Athrun Zala wasn't allowed on the Isle or here in Orb. "I mean, I might have other plans."

Athrun and Cagalli couldn't meet Kaye openly. Still, over the last weekend, Athrun had managed to arrange for a car to fetch Kaye to a resort suite where Cagalli had been waiting. Kaye was planning to meet them both again.

"But it's a pot-luck!" Tia said insistently. "It won't be as fun if you don't come, Kaye. You have to bring Pepita too."

Pepita was now a full-grown, magnificent dog, despite how she was undeniably a mutt. She kept Kaye company, for which he was very grateful since he would have otherwise been living alone. There were calls now and then from Mr. Estragon and Epstein, but for most part, there was only Pepita.

Looking at his friends, Kaye shook his head. "I really can't. Sorry." He brightened up. "But we can go to the beach tomorrow, yes?"

The table's chatter grew once more. Kaye however, found himself preoccupied with the thought of his previous guardian and Cagalli. Cagalli was a friend, but not quite either. He wasn't sure what to think of her as, since plenty of things had changed. But she still felt familiar and he was overjoyed to discover that.

Kaye had been able to meet her personally for the first time that he'd been in Orb, and he had been so overjoyed that it never occurred to him that she was somehow not as tall as he'd remembered. She too, had been amazed at his growth spurt and how he nearly lifted her off the ground when he'd hug-slammed into her. His voice too, he was aware, was very different.

The three of them had spent a nice weekend together, and before he'd reluctantly left, she'd given him a number so that he could contact her.

"Call me at any time you wish." She'd said smilingly, hugging him once and then again. "If you need anything, don't hesitate."

Mr. Estragon, of course, had always been in contact with him, and when Kaye had mentioned this to allay her fears of him living all alone, she'd looked surprised even while Mr. Estragon had seemed a bit sheepish. She'd looked pointedly at Mr. Estragon, who'd then muttered an apology to her.

"Why did you have to hide Ko's presence in Orb from me?" She'd demanded.

"My mother was afraid to bother you." Kaye had informed her. He had felt a tug of familiarity with the name that she'd used, one that sent a strange feeling of loss through him. "It was a secret between Mr Estra—I mean, Athrun and me."

"You shouldn't have kept it a secret. You could never bother me." Cagalli had said stubbornly. "I'll speak to her about this as soon as I can. I'm sure she misses you too." She had taken Kaye into her arms once more, stroking his head in a way that struck him as being familiar and somehow comforting. It seemed that no matter how old he grew, she remained the same as he remembered.

Of course, Kaye knew better. He knew that the Orb Princess was busy, and that she couldn't meet him every weekend. She wasn't just the Cagalli who'd befriended him and had sparred with him those years ago when they'd first met—she was somebody who had duties and responsibilities in this place.

All the same, Kaye decided now, he had been very happy being with her on the Isle, and meeting her in Orb completed everything now.

Feeling contented, he looked back at his friends. Their conversation had moved on while he'd been daydreaming, but they weren't just talking. Amongst them, Tobias had produced the day's newspapers, and as Kaye looked at those, his eyes widened in shock.

* * *

In the Zaft Headquarters, the Head General's office was considered to be the most luxurious and spacious of those that existed. It was arguably so, and it was furnished to be presentable for meeting such as these.

At this point however, it was stuffy, crammed, and frankly too small even for the specific number admitted. Usually, the table was filled with files and things, but for this hour, it had been cleared.

"With all due respect sir, are you speaking as the Zaft Head or as a former comrade and close friend of Mr. Zala?"

Sitting behind his desk, Yzak Joule tried to keep his annoyance in check as he fielded the questions. Normally, he thought irately, he would have delegated this to a subordinate, but with the rate of things building up these days, it made more sense to take the bull by the horns directly. And in Yzak's trademark style, the bull would definitely fly in the face of the reporters at some point. That point was called the boiling point, and Yzak could feel himself coming very near to it.

"I have no authority to act outside my job in explaining Mr. Zala's current presence in Orb," Yzak clarified for the fifth time that day. "My answer is the same—I have agreed to the press' questions to make clear Zaft's decision to accept Mr. Zala's resignation letter and to confirm that he is no longer an Intelligencer for Zaft." He bit back a sigh. "As it is, the resignation was accepted more than a month ago, and he has been in Orb for nearly a month if I understand correctly."

"We understand that he was a former agent of the Internal Security and Intelligence Department," One reported called out. "Why would Zaft be willing to accept the resignation if he knows so many secrets?"

Yzak tried not to snap. These questions were so brainless that he felt almost insulted that they were being posed to him. "Firstly, every agent of Zaft or civil servant cannot breach security or obligations and definitely not confidence—regardless of whether their employment ends or not. Secondly, no employer can enforce an employee's contract if the latter chooses to terminate it. In his case, his resignation was given with the proper months of notice and there was no breach of contract."

"Sir," Another called out. Cameras were not allowed in this building, nor were recorders, and people were scribbling like mad in that room. "Can you comment on his recently-announced relationship with the Orb Princess?"

It hadn't been announced. More like exposed, Yzak thought dryly. Whoever who had leaked the Orb Council of Elders' internal correspondences and considerations of whether to approve of Cagalli Yula Atha's appeal to marry a former Zaft Intelligencer was surely facing hell back in Orb. Currently, investigations were underway, and the suspect was a personal assistant of one of the Elders. The assistant had probably leaked it to the media, who'd then gone right after the two and had been at it since then.

Not that it would be hidden forever of course, Yzak conceded. That silly arse must have taken to living with her in the Atha Estate for at least a week upon his arrival in Orb. The first photographs of Athrun Zala in Orb had been of him appearing at meetings and similar official events regarding his latest employment with the Tristernte Research conglomerate, but the subsequent ones had been of him stepping out of the Atha Estate's main gates and being met with mobs.

Hence, Yzak thought exasperatedly, the need for this press conference now. "No comment. Mr. Zala's personal life is not of interest to Zaft, his former—," He stressed the word 'former', "— employer. There was no conflict of interest or breach of duty, as was proven some years ago, and that is the position that Zaft refers to even now."

"Sir," There was yet another reporter asking, "Mr. Zala has admitted to the Orb Press that he will be marrying the Orb Princess. The wedding's slated to happen in two months. Will Zaft have any views on that?"

"What kind of question is that?" Yzak did snap now. "As a spokesperson for Zaft, am I supposed to answer that question?" He folded his hands to keep himself from shaking his fists at the media dogs. "I repeat that the purpose of this press conference is to clarify that Athrun Zala is no longer employed under Zaft. Zaft denies connection with his presence in Orb now, and Zaft denies that Athrun Zala is there for the purposes of acquiring information about the internal security of Orb to pass to the Plants."

The clicking of pens in the room suddenly stopped. He hadn't quite lost his ability to intimidate then, Yzak thought with a tiny bit of satisfaction. Even the subordinates around him looked rather nervous.

He looked around aggressively. "Are there anymore questions? If there are none, I'd like to end this press conference."

There were murmurs of protest, but Yzak glared in the general direction of people sitting across from his desk, and the room fell silent.

Satisfied, he gave the signal for them to leave.

* * *

Standing with a handful of ice wrapped in a handkerchief, the fifteen-year old Tobias glared at his classmate. "You're a looney!"

"I am not one." The student that had delivered the punch said in a low voice.

Outside the classroom, the other students were pressing their faces against the window. No doubt, the fight that had broken out in the middle of the recess had been unexpected and highly unpredictable. The parties involved too, came as a surprise. Tobias Martrol and Kaye Humbert, members of the same fencing club, had never fought before. In fact, they were friends and attended almost every class together.

"Silence," the teacher intervened. He shook his head exasperatedly, trying to make head and tail of the incident. On the table, the alleged trigger of the fight lay limply. Newspapers—some of it crumpled, and most of it intact for the teacher to read and to get even more confused about the turn of events. "Kaye, apologize to Tobias for hitting him. You're lucky that it isn't serious—I might have had to call both your parents."

"Don't bother sir," Kaye muttered. "I live alone."

The teacher seemed to recall this and frowned. "Well, apologise anyway. You too, Tobias. You don't have to call your classmate a looney even if you're mad at him."

"I will if he apologizes first!" Tobias, a tall lanky youth looked highly affronted at the effort at reconciliation.

Kaye looked up furiously too. How strange, the teacher thought, that the usually mild, acquiescent youngster was being so aggressive. "I won't apologise, sir. Tobias started the fight."

"You punched me first!" Tobias protested. "Just because you disagreed with what I said!" He rolled his eyes. "And over what, Kaye? I don't know why you turned all looney like that so suddenly!"

"I gave you a chance to take it back." Kaye said firmly. "But you didn't. I won't allow you to say such things without proof."

"Who died and made you a judge?" Tobias demanded. "And why do you care anyway?"

"Excuse me," The teacher said helplessly, gesturing to the newspapers, "What were you two fighting about again?"

Tobias shrugged. "I'm still trying to figure that out too, sir. Kaye just flew at me in a rage when I was telling Cera that the rumours were true." He cast a look at Kaye, looking puzzled. "I mean, why should you care? They probably are anyway."

"It's wrong to say things without proof!" Kaye nearly shouted. Like his friend, he had the gangly look of a child who had suddenly shot up very fast, but his face was strangely fierce. Looking at him, the teacher had always found him to be more mature than the other students, but now it seemed even more evident. "I'm sorry that I hit you when I lost my temper, but it's wrong to say things like that!"

Tobias, as stunned by the sudden apology as by the force of Kaye's declaration, stammered his own apology.

The teacher, still bewildered, made another effort. "Well, that's not so bad now, is it? He sighed, looking at his watch. "Now, you've got another ten minutes for recess, so shall we all clear out?"

"Alright." Tobias muttered. Still holding the ice gloomily to his cheek, he cast a puzzled look at his friend and began to plod out.

Kaye followed, though he cast his eyes down, trying to prevent tears from spilling.

On the teacher's table, there was a picture of the Orb Princess being shielded by a man in the newspapers. His face was turned to the side as if to block something, and there was a stain on his cheek and shoulder—a tomato, apparently.

The allegations that the Zaft Intelligencer Athrun Zala had plotted his way into Orb by manipulating the Orb Princess were printed in bold, black block letters, and those were splayed across the front page.

* * *

"The conclusion then, would be that these war criminals can never fit back. They can't integrate back into a society that has moved on since the days when wars were glorified."

The music played on. The laughter rose here and there, and the atmosphere was merry enough. But her hands were trembling and she felt a rush of rage swell into her, blocking every sound out.

Around her, the world continued, isolated from the spot she occupied at the table, colours chopping on with their hues and accompanied sounds, distant from the stark white cloth she gripped to keep herself steady. The guests sitting at this particular table were listening in interest, some even asking more questions and in the same pointed way as young Lord Lyadov had replied.

"And what about the Intelligencers in particular?" A lady on her right asked interestedly, as if her neighbor were invisible. "I understand that your sample size wasn't very large, but surely your thesis considered specific groups of war criminals?"

There was no doubt about the exact nature or degree of what she was feeling. She lowered her eyes, afraid to look up for fear that the anger would be present in them. She managed to take her hands away from the table cloth, slipping them lower to hide how they were clenched.

Surely, Cagalli Yula Atha tried to convince herself, what he'd said had been an unintended statement. Surely, the young Lord Lyadov hadn't meant any offence—he'd just returned from abroad. He wasn't aware of the old prejudices and the old grudges of the wars that had taken place in the past. He'd only been a child of ten at that time—surely, he didn't know much about anything. Why, surely he had said that only because he didn't know.

But then it struck her that it was precisely because he didn't know much about anything that he was being so hostile. Like the other Emirs and Orb nobles, he didn't know any better. They hadn't ostracized her openly, for sure, and she wasn't entirely out of the running either. Public opinions had been rather mixed and nobody knew for sure what to really feel. But that had been why their confusion had been directed into indignation and anger against somebody else.

Athrun didn't deserve all this, but he'd accepted it without complaint. He'd accepted it the evening when he'd returned to her and moved through that gate and door to take her by the hand.

The young Emir was still talking. "And generally, these Intelligencers have nowhere to go in the end. Of course, this is a general statement, but there are pretty solid case-studies and the numbers to back this up."

Frightened by the force of her emotions and unwilling to show the extent of this, Cagalli tucked her hands into her lap, glad that the table was high enough to mask her reaction. The candle-lighting wasn't too bright, and it made her glad that the unhappiness in her face would not be too apparent.

She wasn't sure what was the worst part of this evening. Having to come here and to be greeted fondly and warmly by the other guests while they'd cast Athrun Zala those strange, fascinated stares had been bad enough. Most of the guests had ignored him even if the more civil ones had congratulated them and acknowledged Athrun Zala's presence here tonight. But they'd moved off and left them both alone, which had felt strangely awful to Cagalli even when she would have preferred to be alone with Athrun on a normal day. To cap it all off, Lord Lyadov and some others had come to greet them personally and sat here saying what he just had. It didn't look like he would be pausing anytime soon.

Beside her, Athrun continued his meal as if he had not heard anything that the host had just said. He even paused to dab his mouth with the supplied napkin, as if he had merely contemplated something not worth saying at all. Cagalli glanced across to him, but he did not look at her and continued eating.

If one did not understand the context of the conversation or who the people at the table were, Athrun would have seemed to fit in with the guests her. He seemed to belong, what with his dinner suit and his fine manners. He blended in perfectly, Cagalli a saw that he looked like he was in a jovial mood and enjoying his meal immensely, which made her quite sure that he was not at all.

Before they'd left to come here, Cagalli had helped him with his cufflinks. "I feel like a stuffed animal." He'd told her, his voice mild even though they could sense his general nervousness. If she'd always assumed that he'd been very comfortable in starched collars and formal wear, she'd been only half right. He was good at acting like those things were comfortable.

She had smiled at him, pecking him on the cheek, and then resumed fiddling with the left cufflink. "I'll say. I'd be surprised if the females didn't swoon openly at you."

He had returned her cheerfulness with that stoic calmness—the very thing that she had always envied him for and hoped to imitate. Of course, he wasn't always like this—he tended to be extreme with his temper when it was provoked.

"Do we really have to go?" She'd pleaded with him. She looked hopefully at him. "We could stay here—,"

"You know what we've agreed on." He'd said gently.

"Are you ready?" He had studied her quietly.

Cagalli had tried to keep up with her bravado. "Of course."

He'd seen through it. If he hadn't, it would have been surprising, because she could never quite lie around him. When she'd finished his cufflinks, he'd gathered her in his arms, stroking her bared shoulders with her back pressed to him, their reflections combined in that one mirror before him.

For his sake, Cagalli reminded herself now, she would have to be strong.

So she waited until her breathing had steadied somewhat, and then forced a smile on her face and picked up her cutlery once more. The sounds of people eating and talking around them swelled into focus, but nothing could drown out what the young Lord Lyadov had said in her mind.

He was still looking at the man next to her with that slight distaste. ""All the same," The twenty-year old Emir said mildly, not noticing anything wrong with his guest's reaction, "Every country needs its intelligencers and people to do the dirty work for them."

Cagalli swallowed down the frustration that rose with her and said quietly, "I'd like to be excused." She forced a smile at her colleague. "I will be back shortly."

Both the host and Athrun stared at her, but she had already risen and moved off, shaking her head once. She did this almost imperceptibly, but Athrun caught the gesture and understood that she was very close to breaking point. He could not begrudge her that, even if he could ignore his pride.

Some Orb diplomat came by to take her seat, not quite noticing that it hadn't been vacated before this.

Brightly, the diplomat turned to Athrun and asked, "What was the conversation about before this?"

The host did not spare Athrun Zala a glance, proceeding to recapitulate . "Oh, about what I saw when I was studying abroad. I did a study on war criminals and their later careers—those who weren't pardoned, executed or imprisoned for life, anyway. It was a specialized criminology paper with a thesis on whether these former war criminals could readjust or integrate into society once again."

"Oh and what were those careers?" The diplomat asked interestedly. Both of them weren't looking at Athrun, but it was clear what they were referring to.

"The usual, as I was saying to the Orb Princess before this." The young Lord Lyadov announced. "If they weren't demoted, they became low-level spies or grunts or left their former employers."

"Left their former employers? Now why would a war-criminal dare to leave his employer? What would he be able to work as? What other social circle would take in a war-criminal?"

"Oh, you know, most find work. It's the usual, of course. Factory-workers, butchers, minimum-wage earners. But based on the statistics, loads of them actually went back to being criminals—usually even after they'd migrated elsewhere. They'd bide their time but then their natures would become difficult to disguise. Loads of them harmed others because they couldn't fit back into society—if they'd even fitted in the first place."

The host looked directly at the man sitting silently and opposite him."It happens almost without an exception."

* * *

When she laid with him that night, her frustration was very clear. She could not quite verbalize the desperation in her, but became impatient and forceful—aggressive even. And yet, Cagalli had not meant to be.

When he'd finished his bath and she hers, she'd meant to check on his existing wound and then have an early night as they'd planned. She'd been very careful to check the bandages. While it wasn't a very serious cut, it hurt her to see him taking on the burden of being here with her. Her fingers had skimmed the area lightly as she'd knelt behind him. "Does it still hurt?"

"No." He'd said lightly—almost too easily, she had thought. She hadn't been able to see his expression with how his back was facing her, but she wasn't sure he would have shown any in the first place. "It's much better."

"I see."

The weekend had begun, but so had her exhaustion. They'd both had a trying evening from sitting there and taking in the thinly-veiled comments. Those had surely eaten away at their appetites and humour. And so, she had meant to be attentive and gentle towards him when she'd asked him to take off the bathrobe and let her check the wound. It was a gash that he couldn't get at, one that she could see and sense the pain of. She'd wanted to comfort him and to let him know that it did not matter.

"You looked good tonight." He'd said offhandedly, both of them tiptoeing around the elephant in the room.

She had forced a laugh in return, thinking of how strange the expressions of the well-wishers had been when they'd congratulated her and remarked what a fine couple they'd looked. "Is that so?"

"Everybody I spoke to said so."

Had anyone really said so? Had anyone actually spoken to him as he'd sat there in his solitary corner, present but somehow invisible and despised or worse— feared?

"Is that so?" Her voice had become quiet. She had changed out since then and taken off all the sparkling jewels. Her hair had been unpinned since then, becoming slightly unruly because of how she'd washed it and had dried it impatiently with a towel.

"I think so." He'd replied. He'd taken her hand in his and turned his head slightly to look at her. "And that's what counts."

Even as she'd wondered if they were fools for choosing to go through this, she found herself famished for contact with him, wanting control and dominance over their situations. As she'd traced the periphery of the wound carefully, checking that the flesh was healing well, he'd been silent. Even when she'd hugged him from behind, childish in her inability to voice her concern, he'd brought her into his arms and never blamed her for her helplessness.

And then she'd undressed him completely, not caring that she had been supposed to be delicate and careful with them—not caring that she was being so brazen and forward and rash. He'd watched her quietly, without protest. He did not say anything throughout, but matched her force with his own, countering her aggression with his own, steadying her by venting himself even while she did the same to him.

Her breaths had been shaky, alternating with his own strained breathing. Truthfully, the pleasure of contact and physical exertion seemed to have distracted them both sufficiently, but the nagging thought of the evening lingered in her mind still. Even as she had knelt over their bed, her cries seeping into the air, she wondered if she could ever do enough for him.

The bed that she'd never slept in before he'd knocked on her door on that evening was the only one that she could bear to be in now. It was a cramped, somewhat insufficient space that had once been good enough for a lowly bodyguard that had left and vacated this room for a long time. Her original room had been vacated in favour of this one. Now, their bedroom was one of their own making and it was a room that had developed its own character in scarcely more than a week.

He had groaned, covering her in his whispered worship. But for all his consideration, he was harsh and demanding against her as he rode her hard, pressing her forwards until her face was nearly smothered in the sheets. The scent of clean sweat had been imprinted in the sheets by then, and the tanginess of the midnight rain in the air tingled. Even though she lay still against him now, just minutes ago, the sound of him had been enough to send her flesh into twitches of uncontrollable sensation.

Even if he was touching her cheek gently now, she could remember what he'd been like. The rough strokes of his flesh and hands against and in her had made her feel as if she was fraying and being torn apart, and she knew that she'd found her release simply because he'd found his with her.

Only when they'd spent themselves had he brought her into the routine of having her lie next to him, his arm pillowing her and her face turned towards his. Perhaps, they would have slipped into a slumber and forgotten, but in this moment, her unhappiness gnawed at her and she knew that she could not keep silent.

"I hate myself sometimes." Cagalli told him suddenly. She could not help thinking of the entire evening despite how sluggish and satisfied the rest of her felt, and the net combination made her even less willing to pretend that she had been entirely comforted. As dizzying as the heights of their exercise had been, she was now sinking back into the painful normalcy of what they'd chosen for themselves.

"How could you?" He said. He seemed bewildered, and filled with wonder, he stroked her cheek with his hand. "Nobody could hate you if even they wanted to—and you certainly shouldn't."

"It's not like that." She shook her head. She'd been long accustomed to his ways to know that it wasn't really in him to flatter, particularly since he'd never had to resort to tricks to ensnare. The gallant courtesy he treated people with was the same, standard politeness that didn't differ, whether he was dealing with superiors, subordinates, men, women or children. "I hated myself this evening. I left you there, by yourself."

"Ah." He looked at her and then smiled lightly, imperceptibly even. It appeared more in his eyes than on his lips, particularly since those were occupied with her ear. "I'll tell you the truth, shall I?"

"Yes." She looked at him firmly. She didn't want secrets between them—not when they'd struggled with their own for years.

"I didn't really mind that they didn't like me." Athrun said simply. "It's not a new feeling, Cagalli. I'm used to it, even if I don't particularly enjoy being disliked."

"I shouldn't have left you there. But I was afraid that I'd throw something at young Lord Lyadov." She looked ruefully at him. "I should have said something. I could have done something."

He caressed her shoulders carefully, his breathing steady and slower now. "Don't think too much about it." Athrun's voice was soft and tired, and she looked at his shoulder blade, inspecting the incompletely-healed slash wound. He noted her looking at the wound with her furrowed brow, and he smiled to assure her. "Or about this. It's doing fine." His smile grew a little more. "You were very considerate the whole time."

She coloured, sensing the suggestion in his teasing tone and what he was really referring to. "I'm not sure that hasn't fully recovered— you seemed quite capable of using your brute force."

"You do inspire it." He replied wryly. "I've said it before—it's quite hard to control myself when you get involved."

"Enough of that." She kissed his lips gently, although it was more to comfort herself than him. "You've been here for less than two months now, and all you've gotten are bruises and cuts and insults." Cagalli's guilt was clear in her voice. "I wish I could stop it."

He hugged her securely, sighing once. "I'm sure you would if you could. But you're doing all you can." He looked at her in the eye. "Things will change. It just needs time."

"Ever since the Elders agreed to let me marry you," Cagalli said in a small voice, "You've been suffering even more." She wasn't just referring to the most recent wound that he'd sustained when he'd been attacked while he'd been at work and surveying a mining site near Morgenroete. "I don't know how the news leaked. But it has, and you've been paying for it." Cagalli frowned. "I wish they'd stop targeting you—I'm the one who insisted on having you here with me. If people want to attack anyone, whether in the news or physically, it should be me."

"That's impossible—they respect you too much to ever think of you as the culpable one." He laughed once, humorlessly. "Besides, I didn't come back to Orb to have to meet you in secret." Athrun ran his fingers through her hair. "It's just as well that the news of your decision was leaked prematurely—it was a matter of sooner or later."

She shook her head. "But there wasn't enough time to prepare the world for the news. Hell, I don't think the Council of Elders had really decided how to best announce it when the explosion came."

Athrun shrugged. "I doubt anyone could be eased into the idea of my relationship with you—or how I've been living with you for slightly more than a month now. From their point of view, they must think that I somehow seduced you when I was working for Zaft as an Intelligencer and you were under my charge. They probably also think that I've resigned from Zaft and come to Orb with new connections because I want to gain more power. They think that you were fooled into falling for some scumbag and lavishing favour on him."

"Aaron suggested blocking tabloids from publishing anything about you and me." Cagalli admitted. "I've told you about this before. Why don't you agree to it?"

"That would only fuel more suspicion towards me." Athrun told her. "You understand, don't you?"

"Of course." Her voice was sad. She gazed at his hand that rested protectively on her belly. How could she want a child that would be brought into a world where his or her father was scorned in this way? Each time she found herself looking at Leon and wanting her own child, she was reminded of her own position. She wasn't like Lacus—Kira had gone through his own struggle to be with Lacus, but Cagalli didn't have as much freedom to choose. Nor did Athrun have the benefit of doubt unlike Kira, because his heritage and past was far too coloured. She began to say something, then fell quiet, unable to voice her thoughts.

He however, caught on quickly enough.

"Tell me what you're thinking." Athrun said quietly. "You promised."

She shook her head unhappily. "I don't even know how to say it, Athrun."

"Try." He insisted. "We promised—remember?"

They'd promised that evening when he'd come back to her. She hadn't been expecting him, to say the least, nor had she been expecting to have him propose to her without a ring this time. Of course, she'd accepted, nonetheless. And with that acceptance, she'd promised to be truthful and to be brave with him, as he with her.

"I want people to accept you without being coloured by the untruths." The words wouldn't stop spilling now. "I know nobody can ever be accepted by everybody in the world, but if it's you, I want them to see who you really are."

"I know." Athrun said firmly. "I intend to make them see." Her eyes were worried still. "But the wedding's in two months." She shook her head, feeling insecure despite being exactly where she was most comfortable. "Maybe it's too rushed—maybe this is all going too fast—,"

He raised a brow humorously, forcing her to look back at him. "So you'd rather spend a lifetime in sin?" He gestured smilingly to how they were lying in little but the sheets. "Would you prefer that?"

She laughed, despite herself. "That's not what I meant!" She shook her head. "Although you are right." She placed her head in the crook of his shoulder. "Maybe this wedding will be the first step to getting there. But the thought of having to double the security at my own wedding—,"

"It's not abnormal," Athrun said calmly. "It would have happened, whether it was me or anyone else as the groom. Besides, you were snatched away at your first wedding." His eyes twinkled in the semi-darkness. "I won't allow that to happen to me—one mobile suit or ten."

She chuckled. "On my part, I assure you it won't happen—one Kira or ten." Then Cagalli sobered a bit. "Either way, it's going to be a fight uphill for the wedding and what happens thereafter. Maybe you shouldn't have—,"

She caught her words before those were uttered. His expression darkened a little, and she knew that he didn't require her to articulate her doubts to know the exact nature of those. His voice was steady, however. "Don't ever tell me that I shouldn't have come back here, Cagalli." He stroked her trembling lip quietly. "The day you tell me that is the day that you think that what we have now is a mistake."

"That's not what I meant," Cagalli protested, although it came out as a muffle. Already, he was depositing kisses on her neck and moving his way up to his lips. "I just want you to know that—," She paused. "If you ever feel like this is a mistake, or if it becomes too difficult and you want to leave, I would never blame you."

He chuckled once, although his eyes were very serious. "I better make myself clear, Cagalli." He sifted a hand through her hair, looking at her intently. "I'm a bit of a perfectionist, if you haven't already realized that. I don't start on things that I can't finish— I don't start when I consider giving up at some point."

Somehow relieved even though she hadn't been expecting it, she stroked his face. "It will be difficult."

"I know, and I don't care." He rolled above her, kissing her deeply. His gaze was fiercely tender now, and his hands forced her to look at him. There would be no skirting away now and no more hesitation—he didn't want any from her and she was aware that none of them could afford it because of what they'd decided together. "You hear me, Cagalli? I don't care."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

**

A/N: Thanks to all the lovely readers/reviewers out there who've written such encouraging things! As always, the faster the reviews come in, the faster the updates, so here it comes!

_Latest and 2nd A/N: Hi to the reviewers. I've noticed that the reviews have been coming in mostly unsigned and in huge amounts all at once. Generally, I actually know who my unsigned reviewers are (since they are classmates and friends who don't own accounts but read and review for me.) Granted, there are plenty of them and they do recommend things to the anime club members and their other friends in school, some of whom I'm not acquaintances with. Recently though, I'm not sure if anyone is writing these reviews all by themselves._

_ It's half-flattering that anyone would like a story so much as to want updates immediately, but it's also a little sad that the point of the review-and-update policy has been missed. As appreciative as I am of the effort that you/others put in, I have to stress that it's not quite fulfilling for a writer to have such reviews. I have been accused of writing my own reviews once, and while I didn't respond to that PM, it was a bit upsetting. I did wonder if the unsigned reviewers were really people who were reviewing because they liked the work or whether it was just because they wanted quicker updates. For sure, being unfairly accused is not nice. So i I have guessed correctly, please understand where I'm coming from._

_ Overall, thanks to all who have read and reviewed anyway- you make writing about Asucaga worthwhile! :)  
_

_PP_

* * *

Chapter 2

* * *

The smell of the cookies baking in the kitchen was already growing strong and wafting into the living room. Sniffing slightly in the air, Cagalli was quite sure that those would be ready in minutes.

She glanced around, not sure how to get a word in at all, for Debbie Aarabella Biliensky was currently engaged in a spurious diatribe with her uncle about the problems of having long skirts on beaches.

Looking at them, Cagalli noted that their guests were certainly lively. She snuck a peek at her fiancé, who was jammed right between them on the couch and looking slightly out of his depth as designer names were thrown around and comparisons on a hundred different kinds of material were made.

As amused as she was to watch Athrun trying to follow the debate, she decided to take a quick trip to the kitchen. The result of the afternoon's baking activities was taking most of her consideration, for the process had involved multiple efforts with much ado from the orchestrator.

Aaron Biliensky, of course, got along terrifically with Athrun. Truth be told, her permanent under-secretary and personal assistant-cum-best-bitching-gay-friend was an even more stringent perfectionist than Athrun Zala. Like Athrun, he was an incredibly competent person in everything he put his hand to, and he was just as careful as Athrun in everything that he did. From checking the oven's temperature to choosing the flour, Aaron assumed the role of a conductor insisting that every instrument was tuned perfectly before the symphony even began. Naturally, he took to Athrun quite quickly for the simple reason that their personalities were alike even if further similarities were difficult to find.

For one, Aaron was very talkative and could go on for hours about fashion with his niece. Athrun though, tended to be more introverted. As classic as Cagalli knew his tastes were, he was hard-pressed to add anything to the fast-paced conversation going on with Aaron and his niece.

Cagalli couldn't blame him, she thought with a grin. Anyone would have been unable to keep up with that pair.

"I'd better go check the cookies," She said presently, standing up and grabbing the kitchen-gloves that were hanging out from her apron. "You lot should carry on without me."

"You sit your precious hinny down right now, Cagalli Yula Atha!" Aaron Biliensky thundered, making everybody jump. The net effect was like seeing ruffly flower bowers leap into the air, since Aaron had insisted that everybody wear the spare aprons that he'd brought over while they'd baked. Even now, Cagalli, Debbie and Athrun each wore frilly gingham aprons that they were banned from removing.

Startled, she sat down meekly. Debbie and Athrun burst out into laughter, and she looked at them resignedly. "Must I stay to listen to you argue about the length of the train and the skirt?"

Looking highly affronted, Aaron jabbed a finger at her. "Don't you treat the planning like it's not important, Cagalli!" He looked firmly at her, pushing up his glasses. "This is going to be an occasion that you want to look your best in."

"Of course," She murmured, afraid to disagree. There was that maniac-gleam that she recognized.

"Shell-shocked," Athrun remarked. He exchanged a chuckle with Debbie. "This is priceless."

Cagalli mock-glared at him. "I can't say that I take you seriously either. Not when you're wearing ruffles and ribbons."

Aaron cut in promptly. "He looks fabulous."

"Thank you," Athrun said wryly. "I appreciate your efforts to console me."

"But you do look fantastic!" Aaron insisted. He turned to Cagalli. "He always does. Maroon's definitely his colour—make sure he gets some ties in this shade." His eyes roved appreciatively to the apron that he'd assigned Athrun to measure flour and sugar in.

Cagalli chuckled. "Actually, I think I'll delegate the wardrobe-stocking to you, Aaron. I'm sure you're more sartorially-equipped to discuss menswear with Athrun than me. And I'm sure that you'll both get along very well in that respect." She smiled teasingly.

"Absolutely." Aaron's niece concurred. She was wearing her own viciously pink apron with the rose prints, but the young lady admittedly looked fabulous in whatever she wore. "The apron that Unc picked out does look good."

"Oh come on," Athrun protested, beginning to untie his apron except that Aaron smacked his hands back. "I didn't have a choice! This was the last apron left because you took the less girly one!" He looked pointedly at Cagalli, who smiled brightly and sat a little straighter in her plain, far more masculine apron. "And I can't believe we're arguing over skirt-lengths."

This was true. It was all too easy to forget that a few hours before this, Aaron had faced a great difficulty clearing the security checks and getting into the Atha Estate. The media dogs had basically set up a camp around the front gates, and they'd actually chased after Aaron's car as he'd driven in with Debbie and shut them out. He'd swept into the house, cursing left right and centre about how brazen the media was getting these days.

"I swear, Cagalli," Aaron had stormed, "I don't understand why you won't let me file an application for an injunction to keep the media at least twenty-kilometers away from this estate! How dare they pester the both of you like this! I did hear that the media had set up a camp around, but this, this—," He'd sputtered his indignation, setting down the baking supplies that he'd brought over. "What kind of message are they trying to send? That if you want to step out of the Atha Estate, they'll pounce on you? Bloody hell, this is a blatant invasion of privacy!"

Debbie had chimed in. "It's like they've gotten you surrounded—like they've forced you both onto an isle."

Athrun had shared a tiny, wry smile with her. Barely a day after the news had been leaked that Athrun Zala had asked for Cagalli Yula Atha's hand and that she'd sent in a request for the marriage to be approved by the Council of Elders, reporters from all over the world and from Galactic colonies had flown in to Orb. They hadn't stopped there. Within hours of the news leak, Cagalli had happened to check the surveillance cameras that showed the roads and areas some distance away from the main gates. In horror, she called to Athrun, who'd confirmed her fears that they'd been surrounded quite completely.

In the hour that followed, the ring of reporters and cameramen already providing footage of the Atha Estate and commenting on the leaked news had built up. And in the same hour that the media hounds had started planting bases near the estate, Athrun had brought up the suggestion of putting up elsewhere until the media's attention shifted.

But Cagalli had put her foot down quite firmly.

She'd wanted him with her. "No point having you come all the way back to Orb and live somewhere else." She'd pointed out, and he'd had to agree. Besides waking up side by side and leaving for work together, she found that it was terribly incomplete not having someone to wait for or come home to.

Granted, it wasn't easy insisting on that, because the world outside the gates wasn't exactly approving. Getting anywhere near the gates was virtually impossible these days, and Athrun's leaving for work each morning was a daily affair of having his car being chased by reporters begging for an interview. For the first time in years, Cagalli had been forced to accept office cars and bodyguards fetching her to and fro from work instead of commuting there herself.

"An isle, eh?" She muttered. She looked at Debbie, who'd hit the nail on the head and many other things without even realizing it. "You're absolutely right. They've rounded us up and secluded us. We don't even know what's really out there, do we?"

Athrun was gazing at her. There was regret in it, and when she realized this, she blamed herself for being so careless and voicing her thoughts. Not that Aaron or Debbie had realized this, of course. They moved on to less grim topics and talked about how to frost the almost-ready cookies, and it seemed that nothing could faze them in their merriness.

All the same, Cagalli thought, it was difficult to believe that they were sitting around waiting for cookies to finish baking while arguing about skirt-lengths. The thought of that put a smile on her face, and she privately thanked whoever who was listening for this degree of normality that still remained in their lives.

Sneaking a peek at Athrun, she realized that if he was still being haunted by the past in some ways, that had been remedied a little by what they had in their lives now. It was quite something to realize that a man who'd been so embroiled in conflicts and sordid businesses for nearly his whole life was now laughing and smiling and preparing for his wedding.

"Skirt lengths are an important, practical aspect of planning for photo-shoots, Mr. Zala," Debbie now informed him. "I'm sure that nobody wants to get the dress ruined in seawater, where the wedding pictures will most definitely be shot at the best beaches in Orb."

"Wha—," Cagalli exchanged a frantic look with Athrun, who was clearly as startled as her. "I haven't even heard of this!"

"The gown at the registration, unfortunately," Aaron sighed, clearly in his own world, "Won't be a matter of choice for you. Thank Haumea that we still have the beach-option."

"Beach?" Athrun said blankly. "Wedding pictures?" It occurred to Cagalli that Athrun had not even thought of pictures and those kind of wedding details, and once again, they shared alarmed looks. Neither of them had, quite obviously.

"Oh well, at least the venue's not such a hassle compared to what the outfits will be like where salt and sand are concerned." Aaron concluded. "I'm sure you'll be spoilt for choice with the way that international designers have been clamoring to volunteer and sponsor. " He scowled. "Too bad you don't have the same variety of choice when it comes to the registration event."

She chuckled, sharing an amused look with Athrun. Clearly, they were pleased by what Aaron was upset by. "It's one less thing for you to split hairs over, Aaron. Tradition saves the day."

"It's not a bad dress—if you mean the seafoam one." Athrun commented. He looked interestedly at Cagalli. "What's this about tradition?"

"Basically," She ventured to explain, "The registration of marriage is a ceremony that's sacred for every couple, but even more sacred for the Orb Nobles. That's because they are carrying out their duties in the process. Traditional duties that became legal obligations, anyway." She shrugged, smiling a bit wryly as she thought of her own would-be predicament as an Orb Noble and above that, the Orb Head. "That's why the tradition is that they wear the clothes they took their positions of power in."

"Shit, Cagalli, this isn't a laughing matter!" Aaron frowned. "It's lucky that the dress that you were assigned for coronation is quite modern; had you been assigned a horrible design, tradition would be dictating that you march down the aisle in the same dress!" He shook his head.

"I'm thinking of poor Lady Hamilton from five years ago when she had to appear in that pink monstrosity at her engagement registration." Debbie chirped, flipping through a magazine with her uncle. "Tragedy, really." She winked cheekily at Cagalli. "Whoever who chose the famous seafoam dress deserves to be thrown in the air and congratulated."

"I know, I know, I think of doing it all the time to Lady Sahaku, except that it would horrify her regal soul." Cagalli grinned. "Having a uniform isn't a bad thing when it's not a bad dress."

Aaron made a sound of distress. "How many years have we been friends, Cagalli? And you wound me—you act as if I never taught you anything about the no-noes of treating attire and accessories as a chore!"

Athrun laughed, patting Aaron reassuringly on the back. "She'd be lost without you, I'm sure, Aaron. Rest assured—you have the actual ceremony to impose your tastes on her."

Aaron returned the smile, pushing up his glasses firmly. "For sure. And not just that, I'll have you know that I've gotten an influx of offers from designers everywhere in this Galaxy clamouring to decide what you'll wear as evening attire and on the honeymoon." He looked determinedly at his niece. "You be my witness, Debbie."

"Ever present, Unc." Debbie saluted, looking cheerfully at Athrun. "Well, Mr. Zala and Mrs. Zala-to-be, I'll be expecting nothing short of fabulous."

Athrun gaped. Looking at her husband-to-be's priceless expression, Cagalli laughed, and Athrun joined in.

"Now you know what Aaron's really capable of," She explained. She grinned at her friend. "You should just quit working for Orb and go and set up your own business, Mr. Biliensky."

Next to her uncle, Debbie re-crossed her legs elegantly, adjusting her hair to one shoulder. She looked affectionately at Aaron, nodding in agreement. "That's what I tell him all the time, Cagalli."

He waved his hand to downplay their compliments. "Oh you'd be lost without me, honey." He got up, or sprang up, perhaps.

Debbie got up, sniffing the air too. "I think those cookies are ready."

"Right," said Aaron briskly. "Who wants some tea?"

Laughing, Athrun hauled himself and Cagalli to their feet.

* * *

The crashes in this heavily-guarded corridor within the Plant Supreme Council building were loud enough for the Head General of Zaft to stop in mid-dialogue.

Up until that point, Yzak Joule had been delegating certain things to his personal, Zed Nagata. Zed, ever the dutiful subordinate, had been noting things down in the schedule book. Frankly, the noises had been going on for a very long time, and Yzak had succeeded in ignoring the commotion in the corridor that was usually deathly quiet when he entered his office.

But now, Yzak Joule had to interrupt himself, seeing that Zed was distracted and close to laughing aloud in his superior's office.

"Remind me again, Officer Nagata," Yzak Joule asked with a small frown. "How did you convince me to bring her to work today?"

Zed, a clerical officer from Zaft who'd been recently promoted to Yzak Joule's office, was stiffly-dressed in his uniform, as was Yzak Joule. Zed, while young and generally goofy, was very capable and had become something of a personal chauffeur, ad-hoc housekeeper and last-resort nanny amongst many things for Yzak Joule. As a result, he spent an incredible amount of time in Yzak Joule's presence, shuttling from Yzak Joule's office in both the Zaft headquarters and the Supreme Council building to the Joule premises.

"Sir," Zed said as straight-facedly as he could, "It's Zaft's annual bring-your-kid-to-work day. You agreed that it would be good if she could see what you did on a daily basis."

"Correction, Officer." Yzak Joule said drolly. "I agreed that it would be good if she saw what her mother did on a daily basis—not me." He gestured to his table, which featured its usual landscape of paper mountains and steep hills.

"The missus didn't want her around today, sir." Zed explained.

"Right," Yzak muttered. "The missus is doing the piloting test for the deep-sea extraction unit today. Didn't want Petra messing around in the labs and test-zone."

"That's right sir," Zed said, in an almost encouraging sort of way.

"So she sent the child to the Internal Security and Intelligence department where half the corridors are guarded with armed soldiers and the other half are safes that require DNA identification for access ." Yzak raised a brow. "A fine alternative."

Zed hid his smile with his hand. The building was definitely not for tourist-cum-visitors, let alone children. But by virtue of Yzak's appointment, the girl was here today rather than at the other Zaft-occupied areas. "The missus thought so, sir."

Muttering incoherently under his breath, Yzak Joule got out from his high-backed leather chair. Zed promptly hurried out of the way and then opened the door for his superior. This was a grand entrance of sorts, because Yzak Joule did have a presence that tended to make entire crowds go silent. When he yelled, it was a common Zaft legend that the chairs would be airborne for a few seconds.

And of course, having the Zaft Head's doors flung open to reveal the man himself glowering there for all he was worth was nothing sort of intimidating.

"Petra!" Yzak Joule thundered. Zed, behind Yzak, fought the urge to quake with laughter.

A silver-haired child whipped herself around to face her father. While only seven, she was tall for her age and she did not look half-frightened by the armed soldiers blocking her from entering the corridor. By extension, she did not jump at the Head General's loud exit from his office—she did not seem quite as startled as the rest present.

Yzak Joule strode down the corridor, bending to help the soldier up. From the evidence of the crime scene, she had been arguing with the soldiers, and one soldier was lying on his back, his uniform crumpled and his expression very, very surprised. The soldier, puffing and panting, accepted with the kind of fear that one would expect, and then saluted. Yzak returned it, although he was still glaring at the would-be intruder.

"I apologise for her behavior, Officer," Yzak said in a lowered voice. "She has the habit of tripping people— picked it up from her judo lessons, I expect."

"Don't apologise, Sir," the soldier looked mortified that their superior had seen him in a frankly embarrassing state. "Er— we'll stand at the other end for now—," He tugged his colleague's arm and they scuttled off like crabs on rocks, clearly not wanting to see Yzak Joule discipline anyone. It would be far too familiar and far too ominous for the start of the day.

Yzak bit back a sigh and then turned back to his child.

"I think I've already explained that the corridors here are off-limits." He told the girl. If she wasn't his brat, Yzak thought privately, she'd have been a dead brat by now.

His daughter looked stubbornly back at him. "That's not showing me what your work is." She tilted her chin defiantly, not exactly petulant enough to come off as childish. Neither was this said aggressively enough for her to seem spoilt. In fact, she had those discerning eyes and a slightly displeased but very restrained look that reminded Yzak of his own parent.

Yzak fought the urge to roll his eyes, because he knew the child would surely pick up on that and imitate him as she must have imitated her grandmother. "It's the Internal Security and Intelligence department of the Supreme Council building, Petra. It's not a museum or the zoo."

"I'm not saying that it is." She looked at him, a steely glint in those blue eyes. Chip off the old block, as Shiho had remarked. Looking at his daughter, Yzak wasn't sure whether that his wife had been commenting on their child's resemblance to him or her grandmother. "I'm just asking for one, little peek inside your office. Am I asking for too much, Papa?"

Yzak's eyes flew to the men in the distance, aware that the soldiers skulking there were looking interestedly at them. Hearing Yzak being addressed as Papa even though it was technically correct, was definitely like seeing a dog walking on hind legs. "I can't let you read anything—that's a breach of security, if you understand what I mean. And even if I gave you materials that you were authorized to read, you wouldn't understand those."

"Try me." She said determinedly.

Since her fifth birthday, she hadn't required spanking to be taught anything. Instead, they'd found out that Petra Joule required only a reasonable explanation for her to keep her toes in line, which Ezalia had been immensely proud of. On his part, however, Yzak had been slightly taken aback and marginally agonized to realize that his child looked to him for the explanations. Her mother after all, tended to be less vocal, and her grandmother tended to simplify things too much, which Petra had long realized. Perhaps, Yzak was the healthy middle.

"I don't think so. You were supposed to follow your godmother today." Yzak shook his head and folded his arms, forgetting that she would imitate him later at some point. Already, her eyes were tracking his gesture. "You're not being polite."

Lacus had agreed to take Petra and Leon for today. Clearly, Petra had given her the slip and had thus provided another mess for Yzak to clean up after.

"I beg to differ," Petra said clearly. Somehow, Yzak regretted using that phrase in front of her. He was aware that children picked up fast, let alone Coordinator children, but Petra was in a whole new category of her own. "I explained my position to Aunt Lacus, and she smiled and said that I ought to try if I felt so strongly about it."

"Position?" Yzak shook his head yet again, regretting how Petra's grandmother had let her sit in whenever there were visitors to the Joule Estate. Visitors that included academics, politicians, businessmen, reporters, the top thinkers—the sort who were always arguing and discussing things with Ezalia Joule. "This isn't a position, Petra, this is a whim." He wondered what Shiho would have done if she'd been standing in Yzak's shoes. "You have rules at home, and I have rules at work. If you want to ensure safety at home, you don't play with the matches. If I want to ensure safety at work, I don't give secrets to anyone—even if they promise not to tell anyone else. Those rules are there for good reasons."

Sensing that he'd been a bit harsh, he lowered his voice a little. "Do you understand what I am saying, Petra?"

She went silent, and she lowered her head. She didn't mumble when she answered, even if her voice fell. It simply wasn't her style to mumble when she spent such a great deal of time with Ezalia Joule, who insisted on proper posture, proper enunciation, and above all, poise. "I understand, Papa." She raised her head, looking at him firmly. "But I only want to know what keeps you so busy."

He stared at her.

It was easy to forget that she was only seven. It was easy to forget too, that having a grandmother, despite Ezalia Joule being many formidable things, was not enough for the child.

And her earnestness struck a chord in him. He swept her into his arms, holding her tight and bouncing her in the air. She cried out in delight, and he said gently, "I work on things that unfortunately, aren't worth more than the time I spend at home. But that's part of my job—being away from home." He put her back onto the ground, kneeling next to her and patting her cheek. "Talk to the people who work around here. They'll tell you good stories."

She nodded, even if not entirely appeased. Yzak watched as his daughter moved towards the soldiers that she had argued with, clearly marking them out as people that Yzak had mentioned as potential story-tellers.

Petra was not the sort to sulk or cry, even if she'd inherited the famous Joule temper and strong-headedness. She was a clever girl, sharp like a whip and getting rather good with horse-riding. She wasn't the sort of child who cried at all—she just wasn't used to being anything less than commanding and firm when nobody at home, least of all Yzak, babied her. Not that he knew how to, of course, even if he loved her madly and came close to spoiling her and providing her with tutors for all sorts of lessons that she wanted. Moreover, Yzak could never, ever refuse to piggyback his child.

In the corridor within the gargantuan building premises, a few soldiers stood with their weapons, looking misty-eyed. Yzak, aware that his child was not looking at him, rolled his eyes, disappeared back into his office, and only when the coast was clear, allowed himself a smile.

Zed Nagata, the ever tactful subordinate, wisely did not comment.

* * *

Pepita would not stop barking. From where he was in the kitchen, Kaye shouted, "Pepita!"

She whined and scratched more against a surface—presumably, the main door. It was almost time for her walk, and she had never gotten used to a residential compound where she had to be kept indoors for most of the time. Kaye could understand her predicament, seeing that she had been raised practically on coasts and had never lacked space to run in.

For now though, he was too busy cooking his dinner to placate her. By now, she would have usually run to him and begged for attention, but she was still at the door. She had been that way for five minutes already.

Getting a bit impatient, Kaye lowered the heat and left the soup at a slow-boil. Washing his hands and drying them hurriedly against his jeans, he strode out of the tiny kitchenette of the apartment unit to find Pepita.

She raced to him, running tight ringlets around him as he laughed and stroked her head. He could not ever get annoyed with a dog like Pepita. He had begged for her to be brought to Orb with him, and that request had been granted. He had never regretted having her here, although it was sometimes difficult to look after her in this place. Thankfully, the landlady was rather nice and loved animals, including Pepita, who was a little too large for a small unit.

As he knelt, letting Pepita lick his cheek, his doorbell rang. He got up promptly—the landlady visited weekly to check on things, and Kaye grinned at Pepita. "You heard her coming, right?"

Pepita was whining again. On hindsight, it was strange, for Pepita had never really bothered much with the landlady.

But as Kaye opened the door, quite forgetting to check if it was really the landlady, Pepita sprang to the exit, rushing and barking excitedly to the people that she had grown up with and had never quite forgotten.

"Ko!"

* * *

On this evening, Athrun was interrupted while he had been working in his study. As he sat reading and checking some records, Cagalli burst through his study. As a matter of habit, she always knocked if she had to come in, and she had been in the living room prior to this and relaxing.

"Cagalli," Athrun said in surprise. He looked at her teasingly. "I was almost done with work, you know."

For the two months that he'd spent here, they'd managed to keep their work back in their offices when they came back to the house in the evening. Today though, he'd had to bring work home, but he'd assured her that it wouldn't take more than an hour. He'd left her in the living room, where she'd assured him in turn that she would entertain herself.

But now he noticed her pale face and got up. Something was wrong.

She must have run up the stairs, and she looked highly disconcerted.

"Athrun," She panted, "It's all over the news—Rochestor's facing a trial!"

He took a while to collect his thoughts, and then put away his reading-glasses slowly. She was staring at him. "Did you already know?"

"No." He said automatically. Then he shook his head. "Yes. I did." He held her gaze as best as he could. "I knew that she would, even before I came back to Orb."

He watched woodenly as Cagalli took a step forward hesitantly and sat before him. He resumed his own seat, and suddenly he wondered why the desk between them seemed like such an obstacle.

"You knew." Her voice was quiet. "Did you have anything to do with it?"

Athrun looked at her, not answering. For some reason, she didn't know what to feel.

It was an unspoken rule between them that he did not want her thinking of the past and the Isle. At times, when Cagalli mentioned the Isle or how they'd met again, Athrun had only looked at her silently, drawing her closer as if she'd suffered more than she'd thought. She understood his unvoiced hesitation about mentioning the Isle— he'd spent far too long there to ever feel keen to talk about it.

That had been what she'd thought.

Even as of now, the only official news that Cagalli had heard of was that Erik Strumsson, the current High King of Scandinavia-sans- New Denmark, had signed a bilateral treaty with Plant to allow Zaft to train within Scandinavia. It was a place vaguely referred to as Area Thirty-Seven, and its location and scale were highly protected information. She hadn't needed Athrun to say anything to guess that this was a cover-up for the Isle. Even now, she didn't need Athrun to tell her anything for her to guess that something was going on back in the place where she'd been held captive once.

"What's going on back there?" Cagalli demanded.

When Athrun spoke, he sounded cold. "Neither of us have anything more to do with the Isle."

"True," She agreed, "But this—," Cagalli looked anxiously at him, unable to express her worries. Were the Isle's inhabitants being forced to leave now? What was status of the secret that Plant's Intelligence Council had kept for so long, and how could it remain hidden? "Can't you give me your guess as to what's happening?"

Even before Athrun had returned to Orb, she'd heard rumors that an unprecedented number of Coordinators who'd committed crimes before the First Bloody Valentine and had managed to flee were now facing their long-delayed trials within Plant. Those had either been rumors or a very hushed-up truth, for there had been no official coverage on the supposed criminals.

On this evening though, Cagalli was convinced that the rumours had held truth. Gina Rochestor was somebody that Cagalli would have recognized anywhere, never mind that she had looked gaunt and sick on the newsflash and had been called Garcia Rourke—as she had been, many years ago.

"Why do you care?" Athrun said quietly. There was that coldness in his face still, and Cagalli suddenly found herself upset that it existed as an inherent part of him. No matter how much she'd tried to make him forget the unhappiness of the past, a part of Athrun Zala had been moulded from his experience on the Isle.

"I'll tell you why I care." She told him fiercely. "I care because I can't contact Epstein and the twins." Cagalli shook her head. "If you hadn't let me meet Ko, I'd have been worried about him too."

For a long time, Cagalli had been worried for Epstein and the twins. She'd thought about Eshe Jupiter and Sundae Guildstern as well. Surely, the fun-loving Eshe and the gentle Sundae weren't responsible for their parents' crimes?

While Cagalli hadn't been and still wasn't sure of what Athrun's previous role in this had been, or whether the Isle still existed for its original purpose, she was sure that all the reports were connected. Nobody had made that connection of course, but Cagalli knew enough to know that something had happened within the Isle.

Whenever she'd tried to clarify what the situation there was before this, he had never revealed anything. He never claimed to know or not to know—instead, he'd merely shook his head and told her that the Isle wasn't worth mentioning ever again.

Even now, as he stood up, moved to her and drew her into his arms, she understood why he could not bear to talk about the Isle. While they'd promised that they would not love with secrets bearing down on them, for Athrun, this wasn't a matter of secrets or duties. This was a matter of him trying to move on, and that meant trying to forget his connections with a place that he wanted to leave behind.

She kissed his cheek and took his face in her hands. "Athrun, tell me that Esptein and the twins are fine."

He took a shuddering breath, still holding her. He thought about the last time that he'd met Epstein and the twins, and he wondered if he could ever repay his debts. "They are."

"And tell me that Eshe and Sundae are fine." Cagalli said. She searched his face for a reassurance but found very little.

He shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think anyone can say for sure."

Her heart sank, although she held onto him. "Is there anyway that I can find out?"

His eyes darkened. "They lead different lives from us, Cagalli. If they are still back there-," He avoided the mention of the Isle, "They'll be fine either way. We shouldn't have to think about a place that we've left."

She thought about what he was saying, and hesitantly, she nodded. "I understand."

As he stood there, holding her and feeling her bury her head against him and close her eyes, he looked at the study that she'd created with him.

His study had previously been a large, mostly empty storeroom and they might have saved themselves the trouble of cleaning out. Instead, they'd shifted a desk and chairs in it and refurbished it. They'd enjoyed the process of looking through trunks of carefully-stored curtains that the housekeeper had kept, as well as plenty of photograph albums of a younger Cagalli. Photographs of her father and his Orb Noble ancestors had long been sent to archives and museums, and those left in this house were currently hers.

They'd laughed over those even as they'd worked to make the room a study, and shifting in the things that Athrun had brought with him had transformed the place quite completely. He hadn't expected the process to be quite as enjoyable as it had proven, but he was coming to recognize that it was an effect from being with her.

He hadn't used the study or lived in this house for very long yet, but already, he felt like it was a territory he wanted to protect. This was a place that had always been out of his reach. Now that he had her and this place to belong to, Athrun didn't want to think of anything else.

"Hey." She said softly, her voice muffled against his chest. "Should I leave to let you get on with your work?"

He was glad that there was a change of topic. All the same, he answered readily, "No."

She lifted her head to smile slightly at him. "So you want me to just stand around here?"

He laughed once. "I'd like you to stay, if you don't have your work to return to."

"Excuse me," She snorted. "You have your work, Mr. Zala. It's beckoning," She pointed to the pile of files on his table.

"Screw those." He said mildly. "I never feel like working when you're not in your own study, working at the same time as me."

Athrun had been fully aware that the storeroom was adjacent to what had once been Uzumi Nara Atha's home-office and currently Cagalli's study. He'd chosen that vacant room out of all the others precisely because he'd thought that it was somehow comforting to know that she was nearby working. Best of all, it gave him great amusement to hear her cursing and talking to herself rather frequently while she worked.

Cagalli pinched his cheek lightly, feigning annoyance. "Am I just entertainment to you?"

Admittedly, Cagalli hadn't been very amused to realize that Athrun was being entertained while working at her expense. Her annoyance had stemmed from her realization that she'd gotten the short end of the stick, since Athrun's work habits were quiet ones.

He provided her a thoughtful pause. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

She growled at him. "I'll get you for that!" She tickled him, quite forgetting that he wasn't ticklish at all. He caught her hands easily and held them up, while she complained that it wasn't fair at all.

He laughed. It was so easy to—so easy to try and forget the past and to blur out the uneasiness and difficulty of the present. "It's fair. Staying together teaches me all about your weaknesses and vice versa. You'll find some to use against me soon, I'm sure."

"I know." She said, becoming serious. She led him to the armoire, sitting him down in it and then joining him. "If you continue to stay here, that is."

"I will." He said gently. He looked at her intently. "Since you've long convinced me to."

"Definitely wasn't easy convincing you to stay put right in this place." Cagalli muttered. He hummed slightly, conceding.

When the media had gotten wind of the nature of their relationship and her efforts to gain the Elders' acceptance, they'd focused quite quickly on the Atha Estate, where Athrun had been. The way that they'd been surrounded had made him worry for her, and he'd brought up that suggestion of staying elsewhere temporarily. While understanding his concerns, she'd been very upset.

For the next few days after the leak, Athrun had tried to convince her that he was right. She knew that he had been worried about her and afraid that the media would take her as its next target, but on her part, she valiantly insisted that she was used to the media's attention. She even went as far as to declare that she did not find any strain on her nerves despite how the world beyond the gates was a clearly mad one.

While she was afraid of what the newspapers would write about her and him, the truth was that she was even more afraid to let him out of her sight—now that he had returned. She was afraid that he would up and leave again somehow, even though the rational side of her knew that he was unlikely to.

While Cagalli hadn't voiced this and wasn't sure if Athrun had sensed the nagging insecurity in her, he'd eventually bought her point about not wanting to sneak around and have secrets weighing them down anymore.

After a great deal of discussion and even some arguments in the weeks that he'd spent in Orb so far, they'd agreed that this was the best way forward. He'd settled in quite nicely with his businesses and had already achieved grudging acknowledgement from his colleagues and those in his new line of work. But that success was limited to only his job. While Athrun didn't say much, Cagalli was quite sure that beyond the professional scope, others were avoiding him. Back at home, the reporters didn't want to give him any rest. The cameras were always hoping to catch a glimpse of Athrun Zala— discreet as he tried to be. They trailed him at work, outside the Atha Estate gate, and had done the same to Cagalli.

As it was, Cagalli never went out of the estate without pepper spray in her handbag and at least eight bodyguards these days. Athrun had insisted on it, and he'd even requested a visiting Kisaka to interview the bodyguards personally, on top of the standard selection procedures that Cagalli's office had.

Athrun though, wasn't exempt from the same problems. He'd had try and get used to not having a gun and knife on him at all times, given that the Orb laws on possession of weapons and arms were very different from what he'd faced back with his old job. As a result, he never went anywhere without similar deterrent devices and had finally been convinced to hire two bodyguards.

As she laid her head against him, she wondered if they had already won a small battle. It was admittedly difficult to believe that a wedding was due in a month when they were both trying to cope with work, their new lives, and the additional security measures. But the fact of the matter was that they were together, and that was a small triumph to her at the very least.

"Maybe," She said softly, listening to his heart beat against her cheek "Maybe I should insist on a small wedding."

His surprise became resignation as he sighed. "As much as I'd prefer that, it's pretty much out of our hands."

It was true. In many ways, their decision to marry would never be theirs alone. The whole idea of the Orb leader's marriage was a different concept from the staid conceptions of a marriage, and even the wedding ceremony wasn't quite vested in their decision-making power.

"Besides," Athrun told her, "I'd rather have us marry in the open than to have all sorts of rumours go on about my being here with you."

She nodded, looking up at him. "Plenty of those out there already." And Cagalli took her turn to sigh now, rubbing her face near his shoulder as he returned her hug. "But to have to go through a gargantuan wedding ceremony that's planned from top to toe by people other than ourselves is—," She searched and for a lack of a better word, muttered, "Annoying."

He chuckled his agreement. "At least the stress of finding a venue and invitations and things like that is taken off our shoulders." He looked at her teasingly. "You only need to focus on the other part of your royal obligations now."

She quirked her lips at him in reply. "Well, now, they say it takes two to tango."

He paused her kiss with his fingers, looking back at the table. "And who was it who was so eager about reminding me about work?"

Cagalli sprang up, pulling him along with her. Her eyes twinkled at him. "You'll just have to excuse my momentary lapse of common sense. Clearly, you shouldn't be wasting time on all those stuffy things when you've got better things to look forward to."

Looking at his fiancée as she tugged him along and laughed at him, Athrun had to agree.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.**

* * *

Chapter 3

* * *

On every of these evenings when he brought Leon to the neighbourhood playground, it seemed inescapable to Kira that his child was growing up more quickly than he'd expected.

The consolation though, was that all children were difficult that way. Petra, according to Shiho, was an absolute nightmare when it came to questions and demanding answers that satisfied her curiosity. It didn't matter that Petra was home-schooled unlike Leon— she was just as aware of Leon of the world around them and she was a clever little thing that had a knack for hitting the nail on the head. Kira was quite sure that she drove the impatient-natured Yzak Joule mad at times.

Perhaps Leon had picked up habits of asking questions about anything and everything from Petra Joule, since they were frequent play-mates whenever their mothers met over weekends.

"Pa, will my knee heal slower than Margo's when she fell?"

"Margo? Is she a classmate?" Some distance above their heads, Tori flapped and flew in circles, then came to rest on the child's shoulder as Tori had been freshly-programmed to do.

Leon nodded, his large blue eyes watering away. Currently, his son was currently a small, tear-streaked messy bundle that required patching-up and a great deal of comforting, but even then, the questions didn't stop.

Resting himself against the bench, Kira adjusted them both, peering at Leon's legs. "Well, I'm not sure what Margo's scratch was like. But even if it was exactly the same as yours, I wouldn't know if her body repairs itself faster."

"But Margo runs faster than me and is better in Math," Leon told his father. He winced as Kira washed his wound with a bottle of water that he'd conveniently brought along. "She's taller too, and she's stronger."

With a growing realisation, Kira understood the thrust of Leon's questions. The child was comparing—he had begun asking why some children ran faster than the others and why some others were smarter and better in some classes than he was. He was nearing five, but he was already inquisitive about his world and eager to learn, and with some wistfulness, Kira wondered if the knowledge would change the boy.

As lightly as he traced the scratched knee, Kira smiled at his boy. "Just because she's better than you in some things doesn't mean you won't heal faster. There are lots of things to consider, and not all of them affect your rate of healing."

"I asked Mr. Jacque about why some of my friends were taller than me," Leon was babbling on even as Kira adjusted him to get a plaster ready. "He said it was something about pants." He patted his father's leg curiously, making Kira laugh. "Maybe the cloth has a special thing inside it that makes those who wear it grow very tall."

Putting aside the plaster in his befuddlement, Kira stared blankly at Leon. "Your teacher said that height had to do with pants?"

"Only a certain kind of pants." Leon nodded trustingly. He screwed his face up a little, trying to remember. "Jeans." He pointed at Kira's dark-blue pair. "Those make some people taller."

"Jeans." Kira paused, and then a light went off in his head as he made head and tail of whatever Leon had been talking about. "Oh!"

He continued staring as his child, and only Tori's chirping broke the silence.

"Genes, eh?" Kira muttered. He patted his son's curious face. "Well, we'll get you some jeans soon if you really want those." He started laughing, quite unable to help it. "You'll outgrow your shorts and other clothes soon, anyway." And he smiled gently at Leon. "You'll grow—just you wait."

"Taller than Margo?" Leon demanded.

"Er—," Kira took a brave guess. Most girls would hit a height-limit at some point, although they tended to grow faster than boys first. Privately, he prayed that Margo's parents weren't extremely tall people or that they'd modified her genes in the hopes of letting her be a runway model in the future. "Yes. Yes, I should think so."

Momentarily satisfied, Leon allowed his father to continue with the plaster.

Frankly, Kira didn't really know whether to broach the subject of a conflict that would never be quite forgotten—or his and Lacus' role in it. Textbooks tended to have myopic standards, but Kira wasn't sure that he or anyone else would fair any better than to tell what they'd individually experienced in their limited capacities.

The questions, Kira was sure, would not stop. Those would only becoming more reflective of their son's growing store of knowledge each day. For now, Lacus had fielded most of the inquiries, but she too, was amused and sometimes hard-pressed to find accurate answers for their child.

What would he say, Kira wondered, if Leon should come home one day and ask about the wars that his parents had survived? Already, Leon had a vague idea of differences in height, weight, skills and all sorts of other things. Where would the comparison stop, when he understood the notions of religion and race and that his parents were something called Coordinators as opposed to Naturals? And what then, if Leon asked why Kira had fought his own kind once? What would Kira say if Leon asked about his Aunt's status and why Kira had served as an Orb proxy for a while? And what about Athrun Zala, who Kira hadn't always understood either?

"You'll grow up faster than you know it," Kira told his child as he patted the plaster down, his words ringing with more truth than he'd intended for.

"Okay." Leon said trustingly. "I hope I will."

He didn't understand what his father really meant, but that was fine by Kira for now. He'd rather that his son grow up slowly, Kira reflected, and take his time to learn and make his own judgments by himself. He cradled his son, glad that Leon was at the age where he did not mind being hugged and squeezed in public with other children and parents in the playground. In return, Leon giggled and hugged him back, eager for affection.

"Be careful the next time. Playgrounds tend to be dangerous places if you're not careful." Kira shook his head, letting go off Leon. Leon, however, didn't seem to want to get off Kira's knee, clinging on like a koala instead. "Your mother is going to be worried when you go back for dinner."

"Will she get upset?" His child bleated, thoroughly worried. Lacus, thought Kira, was the sort who never got really ruffled, but Leon tended to inspire anxiety in both his parents whenever he got into scrapes with Petra or was left alone for more than ten minutes. He was a small child even for his age, since his parents' frames were quite slight too. Besides, he was a gentle, loving child who trusted everybody around him and believed everything with all seriousness.

"Honestly, I think she will." Kira pinched the boy's cheek. "It's also Pa's fault, I think." He laughed sheepishly. "Your ma will be asking how it happened while she was cooking dinner. I shouldn't have let you go on that merry-go-round."

"No!" Leon looked highly worried. He looked longingly back at the playground, where the merry-go-round was spinning incredibly fast and joyous screams were echoing everywhere. "It's just that I got so excited that I let go! I want to go back there!"

"Alright, alright." Kira couldn't help laughing. Had he been this sort of child as well? He racked his memory, but couldn't quite tell. He had been clumsy, that was for sure. He had been timid mostly, but with Athrun, they'd gotten into plenty of scrapes together—climbing trees, racing around and all of that. "I suppose we all have to fall at some point. Just make sure you're more careful, okay?"

"O-Okay." Leon hiccuped. He rubbed his small, plump hands over his eyes. The iodine stung and he'd tried not to howl when his Pa had applied it. "When there's blood, does that mean that the skin's broken?"

"Hmm." Kira said. He finished swabbing and tossed the cotton into the waste-basket near them. "In some ways, yes." He took another plaster, applying it carefully to Leon's other scratched knee. It wasn't a huge scratch, but it wasn't just the surface either. "I guess you're right."

"And when something's broken, it can be fixed right?" Leon was looking at him with those familiar eyes—so like his mother's. "Like Tori when Godpa—,"

"Uncle," Kira interrupted gently. "He's your Aunt's husband." He paused. "Well, husband-to-be, anyway."

"He fixed Tori," Leon supplied. "And Tori's as good as new because he said all it needed was a bit of tweaking, oil and glue. Will the skin mend faster with oil and glue?"

"Hmm. Well, your skin has its own kind of glue." Kira considered. "It's called plasma."

"Plasma?"

Leon didn't seem to want to move off even though Kira had finished patching him up. "So if it's broken, the plasma and the plaster mends it like the oil and glue? What about what Uncle Athrun did with its inside parts?"

"It's not the same. Not exactly, no." Kira paused, wondering how to explain it without oversimplifying or overwhelming the boy. Already, this child was asking questions that surprised Kira. "Tori's made of metal and he has to be wound up internally. But the skin's a different kind of machine. It heals itself—just that the plaster covers it and makes sure that the process isn't interrupted."

"Heals itself," Leon said doubtfully. "Really?"

"Really." Kira assured him.

In his civilian clothes and in the neighbourhood playground, Kira looked like any other parent who hovered around their young child. It was quite easy for the eye to scan over the area and to miss one of the Zaft generals sitting there with his young son. The neighbours though, did drop by to say hello, and plenty of their children were playmates of Leon's.

Mrs. Danvers was doing that now. She wove her way over, a bustling, cyan-haired businesswoman who evidently tried to spend as much time as she could with her three children. The other two were on swings, and the youngest had clearly made her come over so that he could play with Leon. He was straining excitedly against her hand, fighting his way over to Kira and his playmate.

"Mrs Danvers! Jorne!" Leon had bounced off Kira's knee and was already tottering towards them on his bruised legs.

"Hi Leon!" His playmate called happily. He held a string and a colourful line of plastic ducks bumped and quacked noisily behind him as he dragged his toys.

"Hello, Mr. Yamato." She said brightly. "Well now, isn't Leon a brave boy! Just like the lion that he was named for!"

"Good evening," Kira greeted. He smiled at the boy who was waving to Leon and trying to tug free of his parent's grip. "Hello Jorne."

"That's my Pa!" Leon chirped proudly. He beamed at his playmate. "The pilot!"

"Er—," Kira began to clarify something, but both children turned to him with shining eyes and Kira shut his mouth.

Last week, Zaft's bring-your-child-to-work-day had gone in a way that he hadn't really expected. The younger subordinates in Kira's department had no children of their own, and they'd been enthralled by the boy, to say the least. They'd insisted that Kira bring the boy to the testing-zone to see all the mobile suits.

The suits had gradually been adapted and converted from weapons to resource-extraction units after the wars, and Kira could find no reason to refuse his child and the grease-monkey team's pleas for him to pilot one. In fact, they'd roped in Shiho Hahnenfuss from the testing-division to take half-an-hour off her ongoing experiments to compete against Kira Yamato in a mobile-unit diving competition.

"A pilot!" Leon emphasised, stretching out his little arms and moving them in wild, boxing stances, clearly having confused the day-job of the test-pilots with the stunts that Kira had used the mobile units to demonstrate.

Yes, Kira reflected a little embarrassedly, he had shown off a little with the whole display at the test grounds to overwhelming applause from his child and team, but why not?

"A pilot!" Jorne repeated, his jaw going slack. The boy stared up at Kira with what seemed like awe. He'd lost his tongue somehow, faltering a little. Kira though, wasn't too taken aback by this. Lacus had sat him down and explained to him one day that Leon had heard all sorts of war-hero stories about his Pa in school. Evidently, the neighbours had told their kids things as well.

"Be polite," Jorne mother nudged him. She was looking a bit unsurely at Kira, her smile rather hesitant. She must have heard another variation of events as to how Kira had ended up working for Zaft. Nonetheless, her sense of courtesy must have outweighed everything else she'd heard. "Don't just get all eager to play with Leon! Say hi to Leon's dad."

"Hi, Leon's dad!" Jorne said shyly. His mother smacked his head lightly, about to correct him, but Kira laughed and waved it off. Jorne, entirely oblivious to his own gaffe, asked, "Leon's dad, do you still have the Strike Freedom in the garage?"

"Uh—no. It's not with me." Kira hid his smile with his hand even as Jorne's mother coughed her embarrassment.

"Leon!" Jorne bleated accusingly. He turned to his playmate, looking mortified. "Now you've done it! I told my whole class what you told me!"

"I didn't say that Pa still had the Strike Freedom!" Leon cried back indignantly, his cheeks blushing. "I just said that I think he's hiding it somewhere—the garage is so big!" He hopped on the spot, forgetting that his knee was scratched, and thus winced adorably. "Pa, you said you use the garage for work—isn't your work to drive the Strike Freedom and other machines? You've hidden it there, haven't you?" He crouched conspiratorially, as if burying a treasure beneath his feet and stamping it down. "It's okay, I won't tell anyone! Not even Ma! It will be our secret—only between us!"

"Oh dear." Kira's eyebrows shot into his hair and he began to shake with laughter.

Kira could guess what had happened. Perhaps Leon had listened to a whole patchwork of stories that the neighbourhood children and his classmates had heard from their parents and embellished in the process. Adding to that, he must have thought all those stories were true from the rather exaggerated scene of what Kira's subordinates had built up. Leon must have then come to his own conclusion as to what the garage held.

He couldn't blame his child. After all, it was a large place, as Leon had said, and Leon hadn't been allowed in there as far as memory could serve him. While that had mostly been for safety precautions, it must have served as a huge enigma and the source of conspiracy theories for Leon and his playmates.

Now, Jorne looked at Leon and then at Kira, questions still bubbling on his tongue. "Is it true that your father and Athrun Zala are good friends?"

"Yes! He's my godpa! No, Uncle!" Leon beamed like a very pleased kitten.

"Er—," Mrs Danvers was looking slightly perturbed. She shooed them off, although Kira didn't fail to notice the interruption that she'd provided to her child's questions. "Maybe you both should go play! You should ask Leon all the questions you want to ask, Jorne, instead of bothering me and your older siblings!"

"Alright," Jorne agreed. Still holding his line of grumbling ducks, he turned to his friend. "Didja go to your pop's office last week like you told me you would?"

"I did!" Leon's voice shot high in his excitement. He was nearly dancing on the spot. "You should see the machines! Those are huge!" He extended his arms, nearly losing his balance and falling again. "Come on, I'll tell you along the way!"

Holding his child steady, Kira laughed, even as Jorne beamed and his mother clucked her tongue chidingly.

They watched as the two boys moved back to the playground, heading right for the very same merry-go-round that had made Leon cry just only. They were bright and lovely children, and their animated ways made Kira a bit envious.

"Be careful now!" Kira called. Tori circled above the boys' heads, clearly still tracking his new owner.

Taking a seat next to him, Mrs. Danvers smiled, wiping her forehead. It was damp with the exertion of supervising her three children as well as the evening's sultriness. "Boys will be boys, as clichéd or as tiresome as that is."

"I only hope that he won't be the cry-baby that I was." Kira grinned, his eyes still trained protectively on his son's back.

"You, a cry-baby?" The plump, comfortable looking lady looked away from her own child and peered at him curiously. This man in his casual clothing seemed like a youth rather than a war-veteran. She'd heard many things about him, some good and some less savoury, but overall, he seemed to be an unassuming young father who behaved mildly and had never offended anyone.

She laughed. "Well, maybe you were."

He grinned back good-naturedly. "I would bawl my lungs out when I fell down as a kid. Thankfully, Leon's not prone to noisy crying."

"Nah, I doubt Leon's a cry-baby at all," Mrs. Danvers said merrily. "Look, he's back at the merry-go-round with Jorne!"

And she laughed, but she was filled with curiosity. Apparently, Kira Yamato was related to the late Uzumi Nara Atha, seeing that he'd declared himself to be Lord Uzumi's daughter's twin. Also, there was his connection to Athrun Zala and a few other war-veterans, but for now, he seemed to be nothing more than a young father and a nice, mild-mannered man. While she wasn't quite sure about Kira Yamato's heritage or upbringing, in her opinion, he was a good neighbour and a loving husband.

"Where's Mrs. Yamato?" She inquired now. It struck her now that addressing Lacus Clyne as such was a very strange thing.

"She got home a little late and she couldn't come here becase she's cooking dinner," Kira told her dutifully. "The daily-help had something on this evening, but Lacus was quite pleased to shoo us off." He blinked owlishly. "She says cooking without us boys around is like therapy, and we're having chicken, mushrooms and artichokes today," He considered the meal and looked very pleased, almost boyish even. He scratched his head slightly. "Although Leon doesn't really like the artichokes…"

Mrs. Danvers laughed, feeling more and more amazed. To have Lacus Clyne being spoken of in a context that was as similar to hers as a mother and wife! Now that was even stranger than thinking of the sylph-like woman as Mrs. Yamato, Mrs. Danvers concluded.

She cast another look at Kira Yamato.

He wasn't the only war-veteran that she knew, but he was one of the youngest and the more famous, and it seemed strange that a man who'd appeared on the news quite a few times last year over the Orb Princess' disappearance was living in their sleepy, tranquil neighbourhood with his more-than-famous wife.

He was the sort who usually looked serious on official appearances, but he was completely different in this neighbourhood. "It seems to me, Mrs Danvers, that boys never seem to feel their injuries after five minutes."

"Getting into a hundred scrapes is integral to a boy's childhood, it's said." She looked back at him, still wondering how a war-veteran had drifted and came to root himself in this neighbourhood. Watching him, it seemed to her that an entire generation had been lost to the war, and that their childhoods had never existed.

Perhaps, this man and his wife were more like children, regardless of who they were in their society. Perhaps, their choosing to be in this particular neighbourhood had been the perfect choice for a couple that wanted to lead their own lives separately from their difficult jobs.

"Strange," He murmured. He was looking back at the children. "I never thought I'd be a father like this.

"You wait till you get another child." Mrs. Danvers advised him. "It'll be even stranger watching children grow up side by side."

He chuckled. "As far as Lacus is concerned, she wants a daughter now that she has a son." He folded his hands, looking back at Mrs. Danvers. "We both like children, but I'm not sure we'll ever manage with more than Leon." He thought about his neighbour's brood. "I don't know how you manage it."

"Well, I didn't think I'd like children this much, but it turned out that I did." The neighbour shook her head. "They can be a real pain sometimes, you know? When they fall down, you're the one that feels hurt the most. So you're doing pretty good, actually. The first time my kid fell down, I had kittens."

"I nearly did, and I'm sure Lacus will." Kira admitted. "And there I was, thinking that I knew children and understood them before I had my own child." He laughed. "I guess we all have to keep learning."

They sat back, relaxing on their benches, watching the children play. Soon, the evening would grow closer and Kira would take Leon back where Lacus would be waiting for them with dinner. For now though, he was content to watch the children dart and jump around carelessly, and he smiled as he watched Leon in the distance, climbing poles and swinging from nets.

This was what he liked, Kira decided there and then. This was what he had been looking for when he'd wondered if there was a point to trying so hard every day.

* * *

Even though he'd technically finished work for the day, Athrun was having a difficult time. Heck, this was even more exhausting than sitting through meetings and having to go through all those documents and checking accounts.

For Cagalli, it was clear that working hard was part of fulfilling her father's wishes, which he'd accepted and had always admired her for. For him though, he was more than fortunate to have inherited vastly and substantially.

He might have sustained a lifestyle as extravagant as those who lived on the Isle if he'd wished to actually implement the façade that his job had required. But the extremity of wealth had disgusted him and made him wary of the corruption it brought. For another, he wasn't working to sustain a lifestyle per se. He did enjoy a challenge and being the managing director of the Tristernte Research conglomerates was proving that way. But beyond that, Athrun was working for acceptance.

In the past, he'd worked just as hard to gain acceptance from various people—his remaining parent, a man who'd promised to build a better future, and of course, Cagalli herself.

Now, it occurred to him that even here, he was still working for acceptance from those around her. She'd known enough to understand why he'd uprooted himself from Zaft and Plant's Intelligence Council, although she hadn't really understood his desire to work just as hard as before.

"Mr. Zala, can you please tell us what your thoughts on your upcoming marriage are?"

"Sir, how long do you plan to stay in Orb?"

"Is there anything you have to say about some Orb Nobles' recent comments about your presence here in Orb?"

He resisted the urge to say anything as about twelve reporters swarmed around him. In the distance, his bodyguards had spotted him, and Horitz, the taller of his two bodyguards, alighted and started trundling towards Athrun at top speed.

Holding his briefcase tight and trying to move forward, Athrun was aware that some of his colleagues that were also leaving from work were staring at his back. A few looked sorry for him, but one or two others crept past the reporters, hiding their comments behind their hands. As if he wasn't popular enough with them already, he thought caustically, the reporters had to drum it in.

He'd been starting to get his hopes up that the media was growing tired of hanging around him—they'd been rather well-behaved for the past week. Clearly, it wouldn't do to be too optimistic; not when he was helping the news sell so well, as one of his colleagues had remarked without realising that Athrun had heard him.

For now, Athrun tried to keep his face expressionless, forcing his way through as courteously as he could, nodding and glazing his eyes over instead of saying exactly what was on his mind. Thankfully, Horitz reached him and began swatting them off, using his massive frame as a sort of human shield.

And Horitz guided Athrun to the waiting car, then opened the passenger door. Nagi, the other bodyguard at the wheel, was looking tense, and his eyes met Athrun's in the review mirror when Horitz had successfully shut Athrun's door.

"Head back to the Atha Estate as soon as Horitz gets in, Nagi." Athrun instructed.

"Sir, yes, sir." While Horitz had a deep gravelly voice that always made Athrun think of a boulder trundling along some slope, this other bodyguard Nagi, barely spoke at all, save in affirmative. He provided a rather menacing air of silence whenever he followed Athrun. This admittedly unnerved Athrun but made him somewhat glad that there was some privacy that result from Nagi's threatening aura.

The unfortunate Horitz had replaced Athrun in being the target of the questions, and he held up his hands in defense and fought his way over to his seat. At the rate that they were going, it was far more convenient to have bodyguards than not.

If he had some luck, Athrun reflected wryly, he'd beat the evening traffic and reach home in time to collapse in Cagalli's arms.

Despite the comfort of the blackened windows, Athrun could hear the voices of the reporters that had waited around to try and get a statement out of him.

The Orb public's general animosity towards him seemed to be the sort that the media seemed intent to continue fuelling—readership of all papers had gone up quite drastically, as he'd heard.

Really, Athrun thought darkly, the papers ought to cut him a check for what he was selling for them. The less reputable papers had even featured polls inviting bets as to how long the marriage would last.

Trying to bite back his frustration, he buckled his seatbelt, waiting for Horitz to fight his way through the media hounds and to get to his seat. As hard as Horitz was trying to while shoving microphones out of his way, Athrun felt as if it was taking forever.

And when Nagi finally shot the car forward, Athrun was highly relieved. Horitz, in the front with Nagi, apologised profusely. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Zala. They were very persistent today and they wouldn't let me get back to my seat."

"Don't worry about it." Athrun said as blithely as he could. "I know exactly what you're talking about." For some reason, his shoulder was aching even though he thought it was nearly done with recovering. He frowned a little, thinking that he'd soak himself in a hot bath as soon as he got home.

As he sat there, caught in the evening jam after all, Athrun reflected that he was in a very strange situation. While the experience of having bodyguards trail around and follow him to work was not new from his stint in the Plant Intelligence Council, Athrun had never gotten used to having a bodyguard at all.

Thankfully, Athrun's bodyguards were content to stay part of the background, and it was quite possible that they didn't see him as their employer. This was quite accurate, since they were technically hired by the National Security division that assigned bodyguards to Orb Nobles, the more important members of the Orb Parliament and their families. It suited Athrun just fine that these bodyguards were not really on friendly terms with him— it was easier to work with them that way. While it generally made Athrun feel slightly awkward to have scowling men fetching and sending him to and fro for work, it did put a necessary distance between Athrun and over-eager reporters. He wasn't sure that Cagalli's bodyguards could do the same.

Cagalli's assigned bodyguards were nothing like Athrun's—the latter had never seen his bodyguards smile, whereas it was clear that Cagalli was highly familiar with her bodyguards and treated them like colleagues and brought gifts for them each time she made trips.

From what Athrun had seen of Renton McGully and Scotti Wazowlski, they were young, inexperienced and awkward. They seemed more like teenagers than anything else, but Cagalli had insisted on sticking with them. And from his understanding of her character and her preferences, Athrun could reasonably infer that Renton and Scotti were not over-protective and never questioned her when she asked him for privacy.

Nothing Athrun or anyone else said could convince her to ring up the Security Division to replace them; she had no reason to, as she'd claimed stubbornly. According to Cagalli, they hadn't made a single mistake at all.

"Yeah?" Athrun had muttered in private when they'd discussed this. "They were the ones who unquestioningly left you at the deck of the SS Rafael when you sent them off. They were the ones who were so busy fighting off the assailants that they completely forgot that you were up on the deck. They were the ones who couldn't even tell the investigators where they last saw you. That's three mistakes already."

"Well, those weren't necessarily mistakes," She'd teased, winding her arms around him. "We all know who I met and stayed with for so long because of that."

And Athrun hadn't been able to argue otherwise. For now though, he was highly glad that the Security Division's policies regarding Orb Nobles and their family members' safety were extended to Cagalli and himself. While it was somewhat inconvenient to have bodyguards, Athrun was sure that it was necessary in his current situation.

"We will be reaching the Atha Estate shortly, sir."

"Thank Haumea." He mumbled.

"Pardon, sir?"

"Nothing." He found enough energy to work a smile onto his face, although it collapsed as soon as he forced it on. There would be a whole more round of security clearance, although being in a car that the security-mechanisms of the estate recognised did make things slightly simpler.

When Aaron had brought Athrun through these gates on that evening, he'd managed to bypass the security functions by informing Cagalli of his arrival, whereby she'd turned off those functions momentarily. Since then, the security had been upped and Athrun had personally insisted that she stop taking such risks and assuming that a supposedly familiar speaker was the very same person she had in mind—or that he or she was speaking without being controlled, anyway.

Grudgingly, she'd agreed. After his arrival and the media's realisation of it, they'd had one attempted break-in. The culprit, who was some over-zealous reporter hoping for a big scoop, had been sent off to the Security Division for inquiries, but Athrun had made his point clear to Cagalli.

As the car drove through the first gate, Athrun made sure to sit very, very still. The lasers that recognised the visitors to the gate were tracking his silhouette and his eyes, and he and the bodyguards paused the car, holding still for a second. The second layer of gates parted and he got out of the car, nodding to the bodyguards who made a u-turn and drove off into the evening. They would be here in the morning to repeat the same procedure all over again.

As he walked, he found himself relaxing somewhat in the evening air as he moved up the long paths leading to the steps and the house. This estate had been mostly familiar to him, but now, it was his home. As he walked, he looked at the surroundings, which hinted only a little of the depth and expanse of the Atha Estate.

Over the last weekend's mornings, he and Cagalli had taken walks and picnics along the small tributary and rather lush greenery in the estate. They'd played hide and seek like children for hours, and she'd found him and sprang on him. When he'd wrestled her, she'd more than risen to the challenge, laughing and tumbling along with him. And when he'd proceeded to take her, dappled in the shade of the ancient trees with their bodies stained by grass and the earth, Athrun had decided that he'd give up everything for them to stay this blessed.

Part of him wished that they never had to pull themselves out of bed each morning and to spend most of their day in their separate offices. Really, Athrun reflected, he didn't have to work the way he did to maintain Cagalli's rather average lifestyle. She wasn't the sort to fritter money even if she was generous with those around her. As the key civil servant in her country, keeping a low-profile outside her job had been ingrained into her.

That thought came flooding back to him as he gazed around the surroundings, looking at the light change the colours of the path and even the aged stone-fountain some distance away. As luxurious as this place seemed, Athrun knew for a fact that the house was decorated less expensively than anyone assumed.

She had that sort of down-to-earth personality that suited the job's requirements quite well. While she could appreciate luxury as did he, there was a kind of wariness that lingered in the way she lived. It came from how significant her job was in life and how it was important to have Orb, her fellow Nobles, Emirs and the Elders' approval. He could understand that, but now that he was here, he would insist that she took care of her own needs at times too.

He smiled now as he trudged up the last few steps, thinking about how the extravagance on the Isle and the cover he'd used to assimilate into that society had shocked her terribly.

Even until now, she didn't know that the Manor that she'd lived in had once been a restored site of the long-deceased Danish Royal Family's summer home. Its proportions had amazed her and she'd initially questioned why he'd gone away and how he'd ended up inhabiting such a huge place. He had never let her find out that the refugees of Harraldsson's slaughter schemes had been living concurrently in that place with her for some time, and if she did suspect it on hindsight now, she'd never asked him about it.

To think that Cagalli had as good as a princess' status in this country, Athrun realised, and that she hadn't seen the wealth of the Coordinators even in their subdued states on the various Isles! Then again, their wealth had been extreme and tainted with ill-doing, whereas Cagalli's status as the Orb Princess was mostly a political concept rather than that of sovereignty. The day that she could not hold the majority of favour with her people and the Elders and other Orb Nobles was a day when another emir from another Orb Noble family would step in. She was not quite a princess, even if she'd been fortunate and inherited enough to not want of anything.

Athrun had explained to her that it wouldn't do to sail into Orb and be a mere shareholder getting massive dividends by merely holding onto the inherited shares from his parents and the Zala name. They both knew that there were plenty of reports insinuating that he was an over-privileged person who'd wound up becoming twisted and something of a cold-blooded killer over the course of the war. That his money had been inherited thanks to Patrick Zala was certainly a hot topic too – some papers had ran headlines blasting about the irony of the Princess of Peace marrying a man whose money had been earned by the spillage of her own father's blood.

As much as it upset Cagalli that Athrun wanted to prove others wrong so badly, he'd convinced her that it wasn't enough to have her understanding. Pragmatically speaking, they weren't on any of the Isles where reality could be shut out so easily. The others didn't matter as much as her, but they mattered in some way still. He wanted acceptance from the others, and he wanted their heartfelt blessings. Privately, Athrun didn't want Cagalli's reputation and worth to be dragged down by his. If it would take forever to make people accept him and his relationship with her, well, Athrun was working on it right now.

In some ways, it was good that Athrun had work here in Orb. It was an opportunity, as he saw it. One in which he could gain acceptance. While his work was building up quite steadily, she'd made him promise that he would be careful not to lose sight of what the purpose of working was for.

Well, Athrun though, they'd both cross that bridge when they came to it. For now—

He put his briefcase down and reached into his pocket, fetching the keys. As he began to fit the key in, Athrun reflected that he'd once pressed on the doorbell, unsure of whether she'd ask him to leave or whether she'd hate him for how he'd wounded her so many times. Now though, he had a way in. They belonged here together.

The door was already opening without his key, and Cagalli peered at him.

She must have known that his car had entered, since the security mechanisms of the estate would have alerted her to it. And in her apron, Athrun gathered that she had already started getting dinner, although she had come to the door to meet him. She looked slightly flustered, one hand in a cooking-glove and her fringe pinned back. And she smiled, making her cheeks look even rosier from the kitchen's heat and her activity.

"You're back!"

"I'm home." He said simply.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

**

Chapter 4

* * *

"Head Elder, are you alright?"

The Head Elder's hands were shaking so badly that his visitor, Lady Sahaku, had to hold his hands steady.

He shook with his coughs once more even as he tried to wave Lady Sahaku's concern away. Those echoed dully in his office, and next to him, his personal assistant and the spokesperson of the Council, Ernest Rohm, handed him a glass of warm water and some medication. A man like Rohm had years of experience serving the Orb Council of Elders and plenty of sense to be discreet. As a result, he went mostly unnoticed into Orb Nobles' estates and sometimes to various Emirs' offices, often delivering messages from the Council of Elders or to act as the go-between if necessary.

Now however, Rohm spoke up. His worry was clear. "Head Elder, you must take your medicine on time."

The Council of Elders' meeting had gone on for longer than he'd realised, and he had only been able to wheeze out a request for an adjournment before interrupting himself with awful, hacking coughs. He hadn't noticed it himself, but these few weeks had taken a strain on his health—not that it had been perfect to begin with, anyway.

As a Head, his discretion was the most important, and he thought he'd seen enough and learnt enough over the years to be an able anchor. These days though— perhaps he was really getting too old for this.

"Mr. Rohm tells me that you're an hour late for the medication," She said quietly when he'd stilled a little. This office of his was large, but it seemed stuffy and cramped with too many chairs and cupboards with documents in them. Even the curtains seemed devoid of cheer and almost musty. Now, she wondered if it would be good for her to draw up the curtains—perhaps sunlight would revive him a little.

"The Council of Elders' meeting today is too important." He explained, cutting off her concerns. He shook his head, smiling a bit. "Besides, you were one of the Elders arguing against what you called an interference of Lady Cagalli's choice. And passionately too, Lady Sahaku." His eyes surveyed her beneath the bushy white eyebrows. "Even when I called for an adjournment, there was no clear leaning towards any particular result."

"I apologise, Head Elder." She murmured. "I and the others were far too caught up with the issues to notice your poor health. Please forgive our insensitivity."

"Oh come now," He chuckled. "The Elders were only doing their job in trying to decide what course of action they ought to guide the Orb Princess towards. I would be mortified if nobody was really paying attention to the issues but watching me cough." He shook his head morosely. "Which is what happened eventually. And that was when I had to call for an adjournment. But perhaps my coughing fit came at the right time. It was a very vigorous dissent you were putting up there with some others, Lady Sahaku, and perhaps the other Elders need a day to consider what you have said."

"I think this is so, Head Elder," Lady Sahaku said softly, " But still, you hold the most weight in the council. I simply cannot leave the Abbey and retire to my estate without telling you that if the Elders interfere with Lady Cagalli's decision, we will regret it dearly."

The Head Elder sighed. "I understand how worried you are. You even followed after me and you came here after the meeting had ended. Clearly, you do not make your decisions carelessly as an Elder and you do not change your mind once you have made it." He patted her hand wryly. "My dear grand-niece, how like your mother you are. At some point, I wondered what your brother would have said, had he been here. He was perhaps more like your father—headstrong and very, very fixed in his ways and beliefs."

She looked at him gently. The Head Elder was not prone to addressing her as such—he tended to insist that the Orb Nobles in the Council of Elders were colleagues rather than related on any level, but this was a private meeting anyway.

"To be honest, I did not come here merely to reinforce my view, Head Elder. I and those who saw from my point of view ignored the schedule and your health." She told him. "We did not know, but I am part of the reason that you were late for your medication, Head Elder. I came to enquire about your health."

He smiled at her, waving off her apology. "Come now. From the time you retired from the Orb Head's position and were initiated into this council as an Elder, you have made decisions for the welfare of the Orb Nobles and indirectly, Orb itself. That stands true even now. If we go overtime, we must. I couldn't interrupt the meeting to run here and take the medicine can I? Nor could I pop those pills in front of them—they'd think that I was weak and about to kick the bucket. No— I still have enough fire in my belly to guide the Council. I am strong enough to last a few more years, I grant you that. I promise that the Council is strong enough to ensure that Athrun Zala won't get up to mischief."

"Head Elder!" Lady Sahaku protested, sitting a little straighter in the ornate chair that she occupied. "Surely the point that I made at the meeting is most relevant here? The Orb Princess is an intelligent woman—she has never let any panderer or flatterer close over the years. In fact, she's been nothing short of aloof with potential suitors. Surely, her choice is a valid one, now that she's made it?"

"Not when it's Athrun Zala." The Head Elder's answer was blunt. "The other Elders are right for expressing their doubts as to the validity of their relationship."

"Validity, sire?" Lady Sahaku shook her head. "As if it is for us to judge!"

They could both recall the difficulties of the prior meetings. The Council had been split quite evenly as to what to do next. There had been no going back once the news had been leaked of Athrun Zala's cohabitation with the Orb Princess, and even now, the Council of Elders was plagued with problems.

"It is precisely the conflict that we face here." The Head Elder agreed. "The reason why I gave the final decision to allow the wedding to proceed was because we could not prevent it anyway. The leak of news concerning his presence in Orb and the Atha Estate had already been done. I daresay the Council had no real time to react and make a proper decision. We were fighting fires, were we not, Lady Sahaku?"

"Yes." She murmured. "As you said, Head Elder, it was better to have an announcement that the Council was aware and somewhat approving of this than to suggest that the Orb Princess was acting wilfully and without the Council's knowledge. Moreover, the Council has no power to forbid her from marrying who she wants—our powers extend to making recommendations and advising for or against."

"But the other Elders are right as well, Lady Sahaku." The Head Elder said heavily. "While the wedding is being planned, nobody knows what is going through his mind. Athrun Zala may have bewitched her as his father did with the world. A woman in love may not know that the world around her is turning—and this is no ordinary woman, Lady Sahaku. This is the Orb Princess that Orb depends on to make decisions. The partner that she has chosen may prove to be a poisonous bedfellow—and once the union is finalised, there will be very few good reasons that the public can accept if it falls apart. "

He sat in his chair, massaging his wrinkled temples. The number of frowns that had passed over his face had gone into the uncountable plenty of years ago, but he was capable and he was very wise, and Lady Sahaku knew that the Council of Elders could trust him. His age however, seemed to have caught up to him. "I daresay that Lady Cagalli is even more troublesome than her fox of a father." He laughed sardonically, sighing a bit. "I never thought that was possible. But then again, Uzumi was always smart at getting his way when it came to matters concerning his private life. Maybe she's inherited that uncanny skill of his."

"But she has the right to decide for herself, my Lord."

"I agree, but her request for permission to accept Athrun Zala's proposal was nothing short of a demand, Lady Sahaku." The Head Elder looked at her squarely. "It was Athrun Zala or her immediate withdrawal from office. I can't say the other Elders were too happy about it."

Lady Sahaku shook her head. "Do you think she really meant it?"

"Oh, I'm not sure, but I daresay that Uzumi taught her a trick or two about driving it hard when one has better bargaining power." The Head Elder chuckled. "She knew that Orb needed her. Let's face it, even if there is some public backlash on her choice of a life-partner, she is still mostly blameless in the eyes of the public. They have focused on Athrun Zala mostly, but they hold her to be even dearer these days."

"Likewise, you could have denounced Athrun Zala on behalf of the Council of Elders," Lady Sahaku pointed out. "You could have released a statement saying that the Elders did not approve of her choice as a whole, even if we are generally unable to prevent her decisions, save advise her against him as is our power and responsibility."

"Yes," The Head Elder said heavily. "But what would be the point?" He smiled tiredly. "The Council itself was and still is conflicted as to whether Athrun Zala was trustworthy or not. You, Lady Sahaku, were one of those who spoke up for him then and even now. When we were considering whether to issue a statement that we had long been aware and approving of the relationship, it was mainly you who convinced quite a few Elders that he was merely, for lack of better word, misunderstood."

"It is true that Athrun Zala has been portrayed to have a questionable character by plenty," Lady Sahaku said firmly. She folded her hands purposefully before her. "But I believe that those are mostly issues of the old prejudices. Unfortunately, his competence and expertise with his former employer have been causes for suspicion rather than acknowledged accomplishments. Overall however, I think he will be true to her and never do anything that will cause her to sacrifice Orb's interest."

The Head Elder raised his eyebrows, as did Rohm behind him. "How would you know?"

"Intuition." Lady Sahaku said softly. "As flimsy as it may sound, I have always trusted my instincts."

"A pity then, that his track record goes against what you feel." The Head Elder considered. "What was a young man like that doing in Intelligence for so many years?"

"Haumea knows." Lady Sahaku murmured. "He has not given an official statement ever since buying shares in Tristernte and returning to Orb for the reason of working here. Nor can the Orb Elders ask him to give one, since we have no power over anyone else but the Orb Nobles. Perhaps though, he should give an explanation as to when he decided to propose to the Orb Princess. She admitted that they were in a relationship some time in the past—before the Second War, in fact. And she told the Elders that he'd proposed back then and she'd accepted but later their relationship fell apart."

"How then, did he end up back here and when did he decide that he wanted to return? Some of the Elders did articulate their doubts as to what she sees in him. I wonder—," He shook his head. "Was there some kind of folly that pushed her into this marriage?"

"I doubt so, my Lord." She said immediately. "Lady Cagalli seemed sincere when she declared to the Elders that she would have no other except him. Some of the Elders were rather blunt as to the inquiry of how advanced their relationship was."

"Well, we'll know, if and when the child arrives." The Head Elder muttered. "She vehemently denied carrying his child, but we'll soon know anyway." He shrugged. "If a wedding takes place at all."

"Head Elder!" Lady Sahaku exclaimed. "Surely you are not thinking of implementing what some of our fellow Elders suggested today in the meeting? Surely, what I and a few others have raised stand true? It simply isn't fair to force them to reconsider in the way that was suggested, and—,"

"No, Lady Sahaku." He held up his hand, cutting her off. "I have not made up my mind yet. By tomorrow, I will. My vote is only one of a whole Council's, as influential as it looks. Most of the Elders are genuinely worried for her happiness if not Orb's security, as I understand. And yet, we cannot voice this directly to her because it is not our right or duty. But that is precisely why we may have to interfere with her choice beyond giving her advice in this roundabout fashion that some of the other Elders have suggested. The fact remains that Athrun Zala isn't the candidate we had in mind for the Orb Princess' marriage."

Dismayed, Lady Sahaku tried again. She was aware of how powerful the Head Elder's vote was. His view alone could sway so many of the others, and she fought to make her case once more.

"But the Tristernte Corporation that he is a board member of now seems to be doing fine. He hasn't interfered much with the plans the board had previously to expand their businesses into the Earth Alliance—he's been tasked with checking that those decisions are in the company's interests, and so far, he's agreed with every decision that was pending and about to be implemented before he joined."

"Acquiescence means little in this early stage of his career here, Lady Sahaku."

"But he had an established career with Zaft and even a foothold within the Plant Supreme Council. He didn't have to trade shares from the Zala enterprises for Tristernte shares at the loss that he made to come here, save that the Orb Princess is here."

"The appearances suggest that he isn't really here in Orb to do anything more than to settle down." The Head Elder conceded. "But I doubt that Athrun Zala intends to stay here in the long run. A man who has been used to the jobs he's held can't be bound for long. Even if he is as in love with the Orb Princess as what his actions suggest, I doubt his ardour can last very long when he remembers his past ambitions."

Lady Sahaku sensed his mistrust. "Indeed, we won't ever know for sure. He hasn't given an official statement."

"And he'll probably never tell us what really happened even if he does give a statement." The Head Elder gave a dry little laugh. "It's probably one of the secrets between."

"But you represented the Council and agreed to the marriage between Athrun Zala and Cagalli Yula Atha."

"Well," The old man agreed. "The issue in today's meeting was whether we could afford to allow the last member of the Atha House to make a mistake." He smiled grimly. "You and some Elders convinced me that it would not even be one. I hope you're right, but the least that the Elders can do is to make Lady Cagalli reconsider her choice."

"She's been going through a great deal with him ever since the wedding was announced." Lady Sahaku protested. "Surely, she doesn't need this time of reconsideration? Surely, none of us can change her choice?"

"Oh, I'm not sure about that." The Head Elder said grimly. "Time has an uncanny way of revealing the worst of people. Taking them away from what they may have grown comfortable to may just be a good reminder that a marriage isn't simple—let alone one concerning the Orb Princess and a man that few people can trust completely." He turned to Rohm. "What has Intelligence gathered?"

"Sir, there is little, I'm afraid." Rohm passed him a file. "Other than what is already officially known, we don't know the real reasons why he came back to Orb. It appears that he came here to be with her, but nobody really knows. The colleagues that have been willing to speak to our intelligencers have been quite approving of Zala, sir. But nobody knows much about him outside the professional scope."

The hunched old man wheezed and coughed, flipping and reading with some difficulty. "And what about the records of his stint as a Zaft Intelligencer?"

"Top-secret sir. The Plant officials have flatly refused to release any recourse whatsoever of his job and the controversy surrounding his acquittal where it involved a kidnap of the Orb Princess and his rumoured insubordination and abuse of authority. For that matter, none of the official sources know when he first met the Orb Princess and when she first became enamoured of him, and where that even happened. At least, if they know, they won't say."

"You see," The Head Elder said heavily to Lady Sahaku, "I am afraid that the secrets between are precisely the things that bind everything together in the first place."

* * *

In the living room, the three of them were flush with excitement. Having just been brought here in Athrun's car and having told Cagalli the news, Ko's cheeks were pink with pleasure. It also helped that Cagalli's eyes were shining with pride.

"Let me get this right," Cagalli said excitedly, setting down her tea. "You passed the test?"

"I'm the only one in my school." He nodded, his eyes bright in his face. Still clutching the barely-tasted drink in his hand, he trembled a little. The excitement was clear in his face and he tripped over his words slightly.

"Well done you!" She said for the third time. And Cagalli passed him the plate of cookies. "Look, I don't care if you've just had one. You have to take another!"

"But there won't be any left at the rate I'm going!"

She clucked her tongue at him. "Ko, I know you like these!"

He nodded a bit shyly. "Er—may I take another?"

"Go on then," Athrun grinned, patting Ko's hair. Seated between them, the youth grinned widely and did as instructed. His height had increased again, and he seemed a bit more gangly than Athrun could remember, but if he looked a bit clumsy with his long arms and legs, he moved rather gracefully and with that control that Athrun had remembered teaching the child.

Cagalli got up joyously, smiling at them both. She hurried to tie the curtains back, for the afternoon wind was threatening to get stronger and to blow those curtains out. As she tied those, Athrun drank a bit of tea.

"So when will you move to the new school?" He asked Ko.

"Well—,"Through his mouthful of cookie, Ko said with a bit of difficulty, "But I may not be moving. I like my classmates."

"But it's the opportunity of a lifetime!" Cagalli turned back from the window, looking shocked. She gazed at Athrun eagerly. "Don't you think so?"

Athrun nodded from where he was. "Ko, if your mother knew that you were being held back—,"

And Ko interrupted quickly, swallowing his bite of cookie with apprehension colouring his expression. "No! Don't tell her!" He had nearly leapt up from his seat at the mention of his mother and even now, he looked rather rattled.

And he gazed at Cagalli imploringly, bits of crumbs sweet against his smooth cheeks. Those had been once plump and rosy, but now they were thinning out a bit—he was growing up, no doubt, and his features were sharpening quite quickly. "She'd want me to transfer immediately if she heard, and I wouldn't be able to say no to her."

"She'd only have your best interests at heart," Cagalli pointed out. Coming back to the table, she began pouring him another cup of tea. But when she gestured to it, he sat there, looking upset and refusing it. He snuck a glance at Athrun, pleading silently with Athrun now.

Gently, Cagalli took a napkin and scooted closer to him, turning his face to her and dabbing at his lips and cheeks. And then she took Ko's hands, patting those warmly. "Like you said, you do want to learn as quickly as you can, and the new school provides more advanced lessons. It's a huge accomplishment Ko, and you shouldn't have to be held back by anything."

She exchanged a glance with Athrun, who had become silent.

"But Cagalli," Ko said softly, "I have friends here. I belong somewhere now. I don't want to have to start all over again in a new place."

"Ko—,"

No sooner were the words out was Cagalli taking Ko into her arms. She hugged him tight, fondling his brown curls, closing her eyes and shaking her head slightly, unable to speak.

She could not love the boy enough, Athrun thought a bit enviously. He watched Cagalli hold the youth, and thought that Ko was as good as her child. If not because of her promise to Harumi, then because of how much the boy had once relied on her emotionally and how she'd come to do likewise. Hadn't he watched her cuddle the boy to sleep and keep him warm? He had been slightly envious then, and even now, he wished things were as simple as to receive affection and be entirely satisfied from that.

Ko was slightly embarrassed although he didn't shift away. While he seemed to enjoy being the recipient of such clear affection from Cagalli, Athrun noted that a blush had swelled on his cheeks. Perhaps Ko was of that age where overt contact made teenagers feel slightly uncomfortable. Whatever the case, he returned her embrace willingly even if slightly reluctantly at first, and buried his face in the crook of Cagalli's neck and shoulder, a child once more.

Watching them, Athrun felt pity that everybody in this room knew what it was like to start from a place without any help and to be all alone.

* * *

They had agreed to give Ko some time in making his decision, and Athrun had personally promised Ko not to breathe a word about Ko's acceptance to his mother. While Cagalli had talked a bit anxiously about it later that evening and even the morning after, Athrun was quite sure that Ko could be counted to make the right decision for himself.

Frankly, as concerned as Athrun was, he was quite sure that Ko would be supported by all those around him. When he'd driven to Ko's apartment and fetched the boy, he'd sensed that something was different about the boy. Someone had visited him—he seemed far neater and more well put-together than ever, and his shoes had been polished and the laces done properly for once. While Ko hadn't mentioned anything, Athrun had seen enough to suspect something was going on. But since Ko had been silent about it, he decided not to ask for now.

Perhaps he would check later, he thought. Or tomorrow. He still had work to do, and in some way, he was looking forward to it so that he could finish it as soon as possible. If the files were here and ready, he would be back in time for an early dinner and possibly an early start to a weekend. Frankly, Athrun was eager to have that, and even as he perused his files now, he felt himself gearing to work even more efficiently so that he could leave in time.

The knocking was soft but sure and a rhythmic little rap on the door. Had he been paying more attention, he would have sensed that it wasn't his secretary.

Barely looking up from his table, Athrun called out, "Come in!"

As it was, Athrun was up to his neck in reading, and barely minutes earlier, he'd been thanking whoever who was listening to his thoughts for the weekend a few hours away.

Certainly, Athrun hadn't expected this person to appear at his office.

"Good evening, Mr. Zala." He bowed slightly. "I am Ernest Rohm."

As if it could have been anyone else!

And the calm, slightly imperious stare that Athrun was faced with made him speechless for a few seconds. It was all he could do get up from his seat, looking at the albino official. Rohm however, was as self-assured as Athrun had imagined to be. He closed the door, took two or three even, slow steps forward, and returned the handshake that Athrun offered.

"Please take a seat," Athrun said, feeling incredibly harrowed suddenly.

While he knew enough not to show it with people like Rohm, he wondered if Rohm could sense his nervousness. The last time that Athrun had heard of Rohm had been when Cagalli had leapt into his arms and informed him joyously that the Council of Elders had given their approval of his proposal. The news of their decision had come through the spokesperson of the Elders and the personal assistant to the Head Elder, and it had been delivered to only Cagalli at her office.

Athrun though, hadn't known at first. She'd waited to tell him until the evening, and his joy had been so blinding that he'd only thought about the Council of Elders much later. While Athrun didn't have a sufficiently inflated opinion of himself to expect the Council of Elders to see him personally, he wondered why they hadn't bothered conveying the news directly to him. His conclusion had been that they weren't really approving of him, but that they'd merely found it less problematic to signal approval of a marriage rather than to put their foot down blatantly.

Come to think of it, Athrun thought, Rohm had been the one to deliver the news to Cagalli. He stared at Rohm's fixed expression. Had this man even congratulated her? Looking at Rohm, Athrun found it hard to trust so.

Still, Athrun tried to be courteous. "What can I do for you, Mr. Rohm?"

"You and I will not find it necessary for the pleasantries, Mr. Zala, and I will cut to the chase." Rohm's gaze was a cold one. Those reddish eyes were really quite harrowing to look into. "The Elders have sent me to convey their wishes that you take time off work to plan for the upcoming wedding. While the Elders' aides are generally in-charge of such events concerning the Orb Nobles' marriages and particular the Orb Head's, the Elders have expressed a preference of you and Her Grace taking time off work."

Athrun sat up, quite astonished. "Cagalli would never allow that!"

"The Elders do understand that the Orb Princess is indispensable in her office," Rohm held a hand up, cutting Athrun off. "I also understand that she is highly dedicated to her job—despite the new circumstances." The way he looked expressionlessly at Athrun made it impossible for Athrun to miss the barb.

"Then you should know that Cagalli won't agree to what the Elders are asking—as well intentioned as they are." Athrun threw in his own barb, and Rohm's eyes narrowed.

"But for now, her work and yours does not take precedence over the marriage that is to be—if at all." Rohm told him, his eyes flicking sharply to Athrun's rather messy desk. "The Elders advise that both of you apply for a few weeks of leave to prepare yourselves for your upcoming wedding. Three as a minimum, in fact."

"Won't we get that from the honeymoon?" Athrun said, not quite understanding. He was growing more and more puzzled every second. Surely, the Elders weren't expecting a mere three weeks of leave to change the way Cagalli felt and made clear about their union? Were they expecting Athrun to reveal his true colours as an ogre during that period before the wedding?

Athrun couldn't wrap his head around it. He fought the urge to pick up his schedule-planner to see if there was some work assignment within this three weeks that the Elders were hoping he'd miss. He ran through potential events—surely not the meeting the following week to discuss Plant's biotechnology hubs investing in Tristernte? Surely the Elders weren't concerned or allowed to interfere with Tristernte's business decisions, even if the Orb Economic development ministry could? Besides, the board would achieve quorum with or without Athrun—surely the Council of Elders were aware of that?

He stared at Rohm, befuddled.

"The honeymoon will be but a week, according to the schedule," Rohm told him, consulting a rather thick-looking black bound book. Athrun wondered what was in there, seeing that Rohm was carrying it very, very carefully like a bible or sorts. "The Elders have expressed concern that the prior planning before the marriage takes place is imperative."

"Planning—," Athrun was slightly confused. "Do you mean the wedding plans?"

"Not at all, Mr. Zala." Rohm said scathingly. "The wedding plans will continue as the responsibilities of the relevant officials assigned to it. What they cannot plan, however, is your marriage in the long run. The minimum of three weeks will be a good time for the two of you to discuss your job, the child that will come in time and the child's upbringing—,"

Suddenly, Athrun felt as if he was in a cross between a marriage counsellor, shrink, executioner, lawyer and business advisor's office. Certainly, Athrun felt slightly uncomfortable about having an absolute stranger discuss these things, but at the same time, he could not possibly express this. Thus, he nodded in what he hoped looked like a natural manner.

"The child, of course," Rohm was saying, "Will be brought up in Orb itself. While the Council of Elders have generally been encouraging of foreign educations, the child must be permanently resident in Orb. All these issues will have to be discussed between you and the Orb Princess." He looked down at his bible once more, running a thin, pale finger down its current page. It was almost as if he was ticking a list of things that the Elders could not quite dictate.

Fascinated at Rohm's droll, entirely unaffected way of talking about a child that didn't even exist yet, Athrun stared at him. From what he could see, Rohm was bringing up these things on behalf of the Council in a manner that suggested her was neither comfortable nor uncomfortable about talking to Athrun about the bringing up of a child that didn't even concern him. From Rohm's emotionless tone, he might as well have been talking about a mere obligation, which Athrun suspected was the case in his mind.

"I hope, Mr. Zala," Rohm said emotionlessly, "That you and your fiancée have considered some of these things?"

"We've been planning," Athrun told him, feeling slightly defensive. "Somewhat."

"Pray," Rohm said, "About which issues in particular?"

"Er—about having a child."

They'd talked about some issues of his job and hers, and along the line, he'd mentioned his desire for a child. While she was slightly apprehensive, she'd been rather for the idea of a child. Beside, she was expected to bear one, since that was generally the point of marriage for the Orb Nobles.

For a long time now, they'd been tempted to have a child, but as far as their current situations were concerned, a child was out of the question. Some Orb Nobles had gone through marriages and bore children even before five months had passed since the wedding. This was generally criticised even in an increasingly liberal society when it concerned public figures like the Orb Royals. Given Cagalli's status as the Orb Head even beyond the fact that she was the Atha Emir and an Orb Royal, Athrun and her had reluctantly decided that going through the traditional process of marriage before having her conceive would be a more prudent choice. A child therefore, would only be considered once they'd gone through their wedding and their lives in Orb felt more secure.

But Rohm didn't seem satisfied with Athrun's general response. He leaned forward slightly, fixing Athrun with a look that Athrun could not really decipher. "Other issues, Mr. Zala?"

"Not really." Athrun admitted, feeling incredibly awkward. They had with regards to their relationship and other things, but surely he wasn't expected to give Rohm the blow-by-blow? He felt helpless—why was Rohm visiting him and not Cagalli?

"I will be candid here, Mr. Zala. The Elders have sent me here to remind you that the Orb Head's marriage is one that cannot fall apart for no good reason or for simple whims. For that matter, it would be unthinkable for the marriage to end." Ernest Rohm looked at him bluntly. "If it ever comes to be at all."

Athrun felt his fists curling beneath the desk. He made sure to keep his temper however, and Ernest Rohm continued.

"If a business falls apart, one can set another up. If one finishes exploiting a resource, one may move on to another. But the sanctity of marriage, I am afraid, is the thrust of the issue here."

"Of course," Athrun murmured. The more he heard, the more he could understand in context now. Those Elders were afraid that he was only toying with her and staying put to build his businesses up in Orb.

After all this time, Athrun thought tiredly, they thought that he had yet to extract what he wanted from Cagalli and that it was a matter of time that he left.

Anger rose in him, but he kept himself impassive, reminding himself that they were only protecting the Orb Head's interests, as was their role. Besides, he had not yet earned their trust—no wonder they wanted to distance him from his job to test his devotion to Cagalli. So Athrun looked back at Rohm firmly. "Frankly, Mr. Rohm, I wouldn't have it any other way. I intend for this marriage to hold."

"I am sure the Elders will be glad to hear that. Before this, some of the Elders were afraid that you and Her Grace were merely in an affair of sorts," Rohm told him directly. "Some could not believe that you had really asked for her hand. Of course, I was not asked to reveal that on their behalf, but I think that this information can only benefit you and make the task of what I have just told you more complete."

Athrun nodded tersely. "I understand their concerns." Had they really thought that he had been just having a tryst and a bit of fun with Cagalli Yula Atha? Really, he thought irritatedly, getting through those gates was more difficult than it seemed.

"Good." Rohm said simply. "May I take it that I have your word and that I may convey your decision and the Orb Princess' to the Elders?"

"I'm not sure about her." Athrun said quickly. "I don't think I can decide for her."

"Ah, but you see, Mr. Zala, she will listen to you." Rohm told him. "If you'll excuse me, I have other business to attend to. Please go ahead with your work, Mr. Zala, and don't bother sending me out. Pleasant evening to you."

Looking at Rohm, Athrun found that he had neither any reason nor right to protest anymore than he already had. He nodded slowly, watching as Rohm stood. Having completed his task, it was quite clear that Rohm would not stay for any pleasantries.

His gut instinct told him that it wasn't as simple as that, however. On the whole though, it wouldn't be a bad thing to take some time off with Cagalli, even if he was sure that they'd gone through enough together to know if they had the long-term in mind. If the Council wanted proof of their conviction, well, they'd go ahead with applying for leave of office then!

* * *

In the cockpit of the latest model, the head of the test-Zaku division fiddled around with the wireless system. It was warm in here, and she was glad that she would have a break soon.

She checked for the time, swatting away the stray strands with a small sigh, wondering if she was better off having her lunch in the cockpit here. The reparations for the starting-up programme were coming in too slowly, and she could not afford to work overtime in the evening—her daughter would be expecting her, especially since Yzak was away on an official trip to the Earth Alliance territory of Shanghai.

As she reached for the screwdriver, she checked the screen for the readings. The glare of the light made her eyes water a little because she'd been at it for three hours already. It was funny how insistent she was that Petra watch shows at a distance, whereas she was wrecking her own eyesight here. The thought made her smile slightly.

"Captain!"

"I'm in here!" She called back. "I'm coming!"

She moved to the unit's exit, not bothering to fetch the uniform's jacket that she had taken off in an attempt to beat the boiling heat. Her hair was looped for the sake of avoiding a heat stroke, but it gave her little respite. Only when she slung herself down from the unit did she feel slightly more capable of breathing normally.

Her team's second-in-command was waiting dutifully, and he saluted to her. But even as Shiho returned it, she noted that there was someone he had with him.

"The new pilot, Captain. She just came back over the weekend." He consulted his clipboard. "You took leave to visit Orb?"

"Yes. Family matters."

It was a girl—rather young as pilots tended to be in the past. She was saluting smartly too; she was already equipped with the test-pilot's uniform. As a general policy in more war-prone times, the best Zaft graduates had been selected to train as pilots. In post-war times were the units were put to resource-extraction purposes and general deterrence measures. But the same policy applied, because pilots had to be trained young.

The systems changed everyday and the instincts of working in a confined space and seeing the surroundings through a small square grid were not born to even the best of pilots. It took time and a whole lot of practice. In fact, the only person that Shiho knew of who'd not required all the training was the General of the Defence Research and Technology. But Kira Yamato was the exception—it had made Shiho slightly exasperated to know that one of her key test-pilots was leaving Zaft to become a freelance interior designer. The training that would have to be redone! And the previous pilot's experience had been invaluable too- Shiho wondered how long it would take for this new pilot to learn.

She studied the girl standing respectfully behind the second-in-command. This pilot had to be brought in, and from the looks of this one, she had only just finished her training and didn't have the experience the last one had. Still, Shiho wasn't sure the lack of experience would affect the potential. Her eyes struck Shiho as being intelligent and sharp. With those kittenish looks and pretty, pale skin, she stood out quite easily in the greyness of the general repair-zone.

"Well, I heard about the new assignee." Shiho noted. She strode forward, peeling off an oil stained glove to offer her hand. "Welcome to the Zaku team."

"It's an honour, Captain Hahnenfuss." The new test pilot said. She had a curiously husky voice—light but somehow smoky and a bit scratchy, and definitely with a slight accent. It made Shiho think of her own father, and even Petra's German teacher. That was a familiar accent, even if slightly more nuanced and more akin to an almost-forgotten dialect. She stared closely at the girl, wondering if she spoke Shiho's father's native language.

As the second-in-command handed Shiho a clipboard, her eyes flew down to the scores and test results. She scanned through quickly, noting with some satisfaction that this pilot seemed reasonably competent. Her training scores were above average, despite the slight handicap of her wrist and the affected shooting abilities.

She glanced at the name. "Your name is—,"

"Laplacia." The new test-pilot said. "Laplacia Bonaparte."

* * *

"No!"

"Cagalli—,"

"No!" She said furiously, brandishing her hairbrush. "Bloody hell, Athrun, they can't do this to us!"

"But—,"

"No!" She cut in again. "I'd be damned if I let us both get manipulated like this!"

"I don't think it's a manipulation per se, Cagalli," Athrun tried to get a word in while stifling his slight amusement. He looked with mostly awe at the angry Cagalli as she stood there, pink in the cheeks and hair crackling and whipping around her shoulders.

To a subordinate, Athrun realised, she would have been Haumea Almighty and absolutely terrifying. To him however, and considering that she had just exited the shower and had been about to join him, well, Cagalli was very appealing.

"I can't do this." He felt mirth bubble up in his throat and laughed helplessly even as she glowered at him. "I can't argue with you like this."

"Good." She snapped. "You shouldn't be arguing with me, Athrun, not when you know that I'm right!"

"Oh come off it now, I wasn't referring to the matter of who's right and who's wrong! For my sanity's sake, Cagalli," He tried again as she glared at him, "I can't stand it when you stand at the foot of the bed in your underwear and refuse to come here."

"What?" She said blankly, not understanding at all. "What are you going on about, Athrun?"

"And I thought you were beginning to understand the way men think, Cagalli." He sighed, sitting up a little straighter in the bed. "Let me give you some insight, shall I? Conflicting signals don't work well with us males— remember how I couldn't bear having you tend to my wound in your underwear on the island we first met on?"

"I'm not getting it." She said, her expression growing darker as she folded her arms. She only succeeded in making his eyes flit to her chest, and he sighed once more.

"Well, simply put and probably more accurately expressed of my thoughts than what I said back then on that island, do you mind either putting on some clothes or doing me now?"

"What, that's all you can think about?" Cagalli flushed a deeper shade of rose and looked ready to throttle him even at that distance.

He paused, looking at her dryly. "Do you want an honest answer?"

She gaped at his cheek. Cagalli shook her fist at him in a would-be threatening manner, had she not been so beguiling to him in the first place. "I'm not sure that I'm not mad at you for what you promised to Rohm either, Athrun! How could you be taking this so calmly? You mean you knew but you didn't tell me throughout the cooking that you insisted you handle today? Is that the explanation for the dinner you handled all alone and the surprise with all my favourite dishes being served? And you offered to wash the plates instead of splitting those with me and in that bath—," She jabbed her hand back in the direction of the bathroom, panting a bit in her tirade. "You insisted on massaging and scrubbing my back as if your life depended on it! Were you just stalling for time?"

"Er—yes. There was a bit of that, yes."

"You asshole!" Cagalli lobbed the hairbrush at him, and thankfully, it was entirely made of rubber and he shielded himself with a pillow.

She was seething, he could see that, and his attempts at humour were not amusing her as much as he was enjoying her response to what he'd just told her about Rohm's visit and what he'd promised on their behalves.

He laughed, lowering his makeshift shield. "I'm sorry! I'm just being honest. There was a bit of my stalling for time, even if I would have done all that for you anyway."

Her gaze softened, but then she remembered her anger again and became fierce once more. "How," She shook her head heatedly. "How could you agree to what the Elders wanted? The injustice, Athrun—,"

Her glare was ferocious. He found it adorable.

"Yes." He said simply and more unabashedly than she could tolerate. "Let's face it—I would have ruined the rest of your evening and you wouldn't have been able to stomach anything or smile at me if I'd told you any earlier."

"You tricked me, Athrun! That's just unfair!" The sly dog had planned all this and lulled her into a good mood! She almost stamped her foot, but controlled herself in time. He watched her with twinkling eyes and she hissed her breath out, trying to calm down and keep in control. Was she but a petulant child to him? How could he perceive her anger as a fit of childish pique?

"I'm upset." She said in a shaking voice. Had Athrun not spoken, she would have gone to him, kissed him goodnight and turned off the light. Surely, she wasn't expected to say, "Oh alright, as they wish and as you agreed," and sleep over it?

"I know you are." He said softly, willing her to adjust her mood to his. "But come here first."

He stretched out his hand but Cagalli reached over the bed's foot and pushed it back. There were indignant tears that had begun welling in her eyes. "If I go there, you'll just kiss and try to make up and I'll just fall for it the way you always make me. I'm mad, Athrun, but you're lying there, waiting for me to join you in bed?"

"No, it's not like that!" He said helplessly. And a small smile wormed its way onto his lips as he watched her stand away from him with that resistance in her face and posture. "I just want to hold you while I tell you why I agreed on our behalves. Also, holding you down will prevent you from slaughtering me and feeding me to the pigeons."

Oddly enough, his off-kilter humour threatened to bring laughter into her voice, but she tossed aside the urge and focused on the problem at hand. In fact, she summoned her own special imitation of his voice—the mild, in-control, saner-than-thou-and-thou-knows-that-one-is-right voice. "Well, I think the couch will be pleased to have either one of us spending time on it tonight. Since you're stuck to this bed like seaweed, I suppose I better take the initiative."

She began to march off to the exit. "In fact, I may not be sleeping at all tonight. I will be contacting Rohm, you see, and the first thing tomorrow will be an audience with the Elders." And Cagalli looked at him haughtily. "I shall not be seeing you."

"Oh no, you don't!" He leapt up, moved across, and grabbed her hand before she could stalk off. "Cagalli, listen to me." He led her to sit on the bed, holding her hand gently. Reluctantly, she looked at those forest eyes, and she saw a familiar wistfulness in his expression that pained her. "You're right that it's not fair. They basically don't trust me. But worse still, they don't trust you to know whether to trust me or not."

"Then why'd you agree to take time off work?" She demanded tightly. As sympathetic as she privately was towards Athrun and Ernest Rohm's visit, she could not help but feel cheated. "And you agreed for me, Athrun! How could you do that without asking me first?"

He studied her a bit sheepishly. "I'm sorry. I should have asked first. It is my fault and I was wrong. But you see, Ernest Rohm was right about some things." He took in a deep breath, kissing her on the forehead and then focusing back on his fiancée. "This is a good opportunity to be together, whether or not it is a make-or-break period wherein the Elders are hoping that our relationship will shatter. Why shouldn't I want time solely for you?"

Slightly mollified, she did not interrupt as Athrun continued. "Also, Cagalli, if we do as they say, they'll leave us alone for a bit. And once this period is over and they see that we still want to be together, they won't have as many objections or reasons for hesitation anymore. Offending them by going against them outwardly—,"

"I already have." She muttered. "That's how I managed to get you here with me, remember?"

"—well, more than you already have," He said with a twitch of his lips, "Is unwise in our current situations. If we follow their advice, it's a win-win one. Think carefully— the fact that they haven't outwardly denounced our relationship suggests that they care about your welfare above all things and that they are aware that some citizens don't like the idea of having too draconian impositions on the Orb Princess." He laughed wryly. "Even if most of your people don't really like me, most want the Orb Princess to be able to choose at the end of the day."

She nodded slowly, seeing his point.

"Besides," He said gently. "I want time with you. If the Council of Elders is basically giving me time and putting me right in your hands, why not?" He grinned. "The delegated work for either of us will definitely make us worry whether it's been done properly or not in our absence, but it's not a bad thing to take a break before the wedding."

A pause lasted for a few minutes, during which, Athrun searched her face for some clue as to what she was thinking. He saw her misery change into resignation, and finally, acceptance. Cagalli sighed. "You should be a politician, you know?"

He shook his head. "The real brains of what it took to get you convinced was Ernest Rohm." He paused. "Come to think of it, he convinced me to face the lioness on my own—he delegated the toughest part to me." He tsked. "Sneaky bastard."

"I could say the same for you, Mr. Zala." She said hotly, clearly remembering his line of attack and deception that he'd employed in the evening. And then she got up, taking her hand away from his and stalking away.

"Wait!" Athrun protested, getting up too. "Why are you not going to sleep here?"

She raised her brow. "What are you talking about, Athrun? I have work to do in advance of the break that I'll be taking with you. Delegating work has often more difficulty than one realises—I'm sure you know that. Heck, I'll be up all night in my study planning how my office will have to go on without me for three weeks."

"Bloody hell!" He said in disbelief, running a hand frustratedly through his hair. "It's going to be a weekend, and we haven't been at it for nearly four days! I was looking forward to this, Cagalli, so what am I going to do now?"

"Well, I believe in doling out punishment for wrongdoings." Cagalli smiled sweetly at him before closing the door. "You can use your imagination, amongst other things. Wait up long enough and I might finish and come back though."

His jaw fell open and he marched out after her. "Alright, that's it; I'll be occupying your visitor's chair in that study of yours for this whole night if I have to!"

She whirled around, smirking. "Be my guest."

"Invitation accepted." He said firmly, and he caught onto her arm and kissed her before she could protest.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.**

* * *

**A/N:** Hello dear readers/reviewers!

Thanks for the awesome support so far and hopefully, I'll be able to write chapters more frequently!

Maybe the Christmas cheer and partying has been getting to me, but I hope you enjoy a relatively lighter chapter—the later ones that I've been working on are definitely grim! But for now, let's take it easy and best wishes for the new year ahead! Merry Christmas!

PP

* * *

Chapter 5

* * *

On this particular day, it struck Athrun that for all his previous experience with marriage and similar commitments, he was woefully inadequate when it came to dealing with this one.

It was one of those desperate ironies that could only happen with situations involving his lover, Athrun noted wryly. He and Cagalli had been both married before but were entirely clueless on the procedures of planning. And even then, most of their combined experience was not by luck, but certainly by sheer practice and the sheer number of times that something had thwarted their plans.

Over a visit to the Atha Estate with Leon, Lacus had inquired as to how Athrun got the ball rolling and had thus alerted the Elders to the Orb Princess' engagement. To his mortification, Cagalli had regaled them with tales of his failed attempts.

"You know, Athrun didn't even get it right on his third try," Cagalli had told her twin and his wife with a chuckle.

"If I remember correctly, this was three days after he came to the house. I was eating a bowl of noodles that he'd cooked for me, and he kept hanging around instead of starting on his own. I told him to dig in, but he muttered something about doing something correctly this time, and then he got down on one knee and asked me to marry him."

"But that's the right procedure!" Kira had said quickly, obviously noting the embarrassment on his friend's face. "I mean, obviously it was meant to be a romantic setting, since he cooked a meal for you. So long as he got the words out and had the ring," He'd paused, looking at Athrun. "Something happened, right?"

"Yes," Cagalli had laughed. "From the start, it was so horribly unromantic with me holding a huge bowl and inviting him to pig out with me at that moment!" She had blushed a little, looking sideways at Athrun. "I guess I always did know what we were heading for, but I was so surprised at the suddenness of the actual proposal—the gravity of what we were about to get into."

"True, but the unromantic setting probably made the reality of my official proposal even more grim." Athrun had told them, his lips twitching, "She was so stunned that she said she had to think about it. I was absolutely crushed, of course."

"But I assured him that I needed time to consider how to tell the Elders." Cagalli had smiled. She'd looked at him gently then, and even now Athrun could recall the joy in her voice. "Obviously, I didn't need to consider what I wanted anymore."

"What about the noodles?" Lacus had questioned.

"Oh, while she thought about it, she insisted that I eat the noodles to avoid waste."

Lacus had giggled. "Well, surely the fourth time was a charm then. Or was there a fifth?"

"It was a lucky sixth. I tried again the next day—once in the morning and then another time in the late afternoon." He'd informed them, grinning. "Maybe persistence really pays."

Oh, they were both experienced with the proposals and the courtship, Athrun noted wryly now— he and Cagalli were veterans, in fact.

She had definitely gotten used to being proposed to over her years of ascending her position as the Orb Head. As for courtship, she'd gone through about everything they'd imagined, and Athrun had joked with Kira and Lacus that nothing could surprise them anymore. As for him, he'd had plenty of practice with proposals too.

Last night, Cagalli had laughed herself breathless recalling how Athrun had proposed awkwardly the first time.

"Hey," He'd argued, sitting up in bed to make his point more vehemently. "You can't blame me! I was—uh, insecure and a bit young then!"

"Oh?" She'd raised her brows teasingly at him, flopping against her pillow too. "And all those years later when we met again on the Isle, are you going to tell me that you didn't improve your proposal skills? You remembered about the ring only _after_ the fun!"

"Like I said then," Athrun had protested, a little stung, "I'd meant to give it to you at some point before you were brought back to Orb! It's just that I—," He'd fallen over his words in his anxiousness, somehow tongue-tied and inexperienced around her. "I just— I just forgot because there were other things on my mind!"

"Oh, this is really not helping you, is it?"

"No," He'd groaned, messing up his hair and watching her laugh. "I better shut my trap."

"Hell, I'm not even sure that was a proposal at that time." She'd chuckled while she'd recalled how he'd presented the ring. At that time, she'd thought she'd it lost forever while they'd both been on the Isle, but he'd taken it out and given it to her.

He'd coloured slightly. "It was. I meant for it to be."

"Did you?" She'd teased.

He'd grabbed her by her shoulders, looking at her intently, and she'd sobered as he had. "You know I did."

"Mr. Zala," Mathilda Surinth's assistant had come by him to pass him a file and he was startled from his thoughts. "Could you kindly please look at the layout that we've proposed for the entrance on the day itself?"

"Oh, yes, I'd like to." He tried to look as interested as possible as he studied the rather complicated diagram and bird's-eye view of the chapel. Next to him on the sofa, Cagalli was trying not to laugh.

She wasn't much better with these things, however, as Athrun had found out in no time at all. She could and had already argued that she'd technically never completed her vows and could not be considered as once married to the young Seiran Emir. On the other hand Athrun had subsequently pointed out that she'd already signed the engagement documents and for all intents and purposes, had been considered as good as married.

In contrast, Athrun considered his struggle to understand why the church door ribbons had to match their wedding clothes or why the doors even needed ribbons as certainly justified. His previous wedding had been a simple two-person affair in a dilapidated church that had neither a pastor nor a goddamn door in the first place.

"How do you find it, Mr. Zala?"

"Oh," He said, trying not to sound too obviously vacant, "Oh yes, I see what you mean. It's fine."

It seemed to Athrun at this point that their woes and blundering confusion as to why they were expected to care about such minute, seemingly insignificant details were entirely justified. Out of the wedding planners' earshot, Cagalli had scoffed about the meaninglessness of what she deemed trivial pursuits, and Athrun had thoroughly agreed. Not that they were allowed to voice it, of course.

Normally, a Saturday afternoon would have been filled with conversations and languid, lazy activities far less strained and urgent than the one taking place. Frankly, Athrun would have looked forward to visiting Kira and his family, or perhaps bringing Ko here to have lunch and to catch up.

But on this weekend, files were all over the coffee table, and Athrun found himself rather tense with all the details that were being shoved at him and Cagalli. As efficient and as professional as the wedding planners were, all this seemed unnecessary.

For goodness' sake, Athrun found himself thinking while Mathilda Surinth started discussing the benefits of a large bouquet, he'd braved bullets and spent years thinking of a woman he could finally be with. If Yzak's claims were right and his sarcasm and rage justified, Athrun had spent a few years in semi-depression while pining over the Orb Princess. He'd gone through internal battles, suffered and was continuing to suffer prejudice, and for what? To decide whether lilies were more elegant than roses or whether the sunrise hibiscuses of Orb were too common?

And Athrun caught Cagalli's eyes and had to hide his smile with his hand as he saw her grimace. Clearly, she was sharing similar thoughts as his.

On more than one occasion, he found his mind wandering, and he wondered why he was being so unenthusiastic about the wedding details. Was it because those were so trivial that they hardly seemed to matter at all? Or was it because he was so caught up with worrying about the Council of Elders' plans for him and Cagalli to really bother about the wedding itself? Perhaps it was a bit of both, although Athrun was surprised to find himself not caring as much as he thought he would about the wedding plans.

They'd already spent an hour going over all the possible permutations of flower bouquets. Each time Cagalli had ventured to pick something out of the sheer necessity of it all, she'd been presented with five more variations. Magnolias that would have to be flown in from a few Orb territories, sea lilies from private beaches, specially-imported tea roses from Haumea-knew-which colony, hyacinths, hibiscus, heliotropes, really, the whole gamut was dizzying.

Despite Athrun thinking that he'd been relatively familiar with most flowers, he'd been stunned to see the variations and classifications that the planners had drawn up for their perusal. They'd been detailed, to say the least, but it seemed that there were a thousand things to look through where it concerned Cagalli Yula Atha's marriage. As surprised as he was to see the extent of planning that was going on below their very noses, he was even more surprised to realise that Cagalli was just as lost as he was.

There were even more details to delve into. Cagalli had already picked gown designers from the shortlisted few, and while they had already received her measurements, there was a fitting to come in the following week. Athrun too, had gone through a few hours of being measured and fitted over and over again, and while he'd bore the tiring process quite patiently, he'd wondered if he'd ever wear his wedding suit again.

When Cagalli had suggested renting suits, the wedding planners had been quite horrified. As they'd assured her, the wedding clothes would most certainly be archived in the Orb Royal museum as soon as Cagalli was finished with it, but Cagalli had still been rather aghast at the waste of time and material when speaking in private to Athrun.

"They just won't listen to me! I told them that I'd tried on a long veil once and it'd been terrible, but they said that the last wedding wasn't planned well and that this veil would have to be three times grander! It's like these wedding planners are trying to outdo those at the last wedding!"

"It's not a bad thing for me," He'd remarked, laughing at her scandalised expression. "The only thing that stops me from complaining about what a dreadful amount of money and effort is going into this is how much excitement this is creating. I've heard that people have been comparing this wedding to the last one and saying far better things about your upcoming wedding—," He'd smiled tranquilly. "To me."

"Yes, I know," She'd conceded, "But do you know how many feet that veil's going to be? And embroidered by hand too!" She'd said in bafflement to Athrun when she'd showed him the sketches sent to her. "When I asked for something simple, I really didn't think that it be this long!"

"It really is." He'd noted, looking at the sketches.

Cagalli had shaken her head. "And do you know, when I asked how I was going to get to the chapel, they said that there'd be a horse-drawn carriage! For Haumea's sake, why can't we just use a car?"

"I'm thinking," Athrun had told her, "That these wedding planners want to do the most different thing imaginable from your last wedding." He'd winked at her. "It's an exercise in showing off what they can do, of course, but it's also because they're afraid that if they plan anything similar to your last wedding, you'll vanish at some point in the ceremony."

"Hence a crazily-long veil that ensures that I can't ever run even if I want to?"

He'd laughed then. "Well, at least that will be the longest, most tedious thing in the wedding. Nothing can be longer than that."

But as it was, the guest-list was a very, very long one.

"Let me get this right," Cagalli said, quite stunned. "This," She pointed weakly at the long scroll of paper, "This is the guest list?"

"That is correct, Your Grace," Mathilda Surinth, the head planner of the upcoming wedding said mildly. Cagalli had asked her to dispense with the formalities and to call her 'Cagalli' from the day they'd met, but with someone like Mathilda, that was almost impossible. "If Your Grace and Mr. Zala would take a few minutes to look through the compiled list." She snapped her fingers and her assistant stepped forward to pass Athrun a copy that Cagalli had been ogling at.

Nearing her fifties and oozing an extremely unmistakeable professional air, Mathilda Surinth was the sort of woman that reminded Cagalli of Nartarle Badgiruel—except that she was far more public-relations savvy and definitely thrice as ambitious. It was often said that Mathilda Surinth's incredibly established event-management company was built up on her talent for management alone.

As far as he was concerned, Athrun had heard that this wasn't the first time that Mathilda Surinth had been hired on behalf of the Council of Elders to manage Orb Nobles' engagement parties and similar events. But this was the first time that she was dealing with an Orb Head's wedding and she was clearly taking it more than seriously.

Perhaps, he reflected wryly, Mathilda Surinth was the only possible person gladder than Athrun that the Orb Princess had not successfully married Yuna Roma Seiran and thus dashed the company's dreams of securing a major event until the next Orb head chose to get hitched.

On most engaged events, Mathilda Surinth would have delegated the planning to one of her executives, but for the Orb Head's wedding, she was appearing in person today. That she had come to the Atha Estate personally to confirm some details with Athrun and Cagalli suggested how much this event meant to Mathilda Surinth and her company.

"So we have even minor foreign ambassadors coming?" Cagalli said distractedly, looking up from the list in amazement. "I don't know them all that well." She flicked her eyes to Athrun. "Maybe it's because I'm not familiar with all the Plant delegates—,"

"I'm not sure I have heard of some of these people either," Athrun muttered, looking at his own sprawling copy. His off-the-cuff comment, however, made Mathilda sit up forcibly in her chair. Even as a guest in the Orb Head's house, Mathilda Surinth didn't quite lose the air of authority that she'd cultivated after years of bossing people around.

"I understand if you feel out of your depth," Mathilda threw him a scathing look "I'm sure, Mr. Zala, that your circles are not quite the same as the Orb Princess'."

Cagalli flinched, and Mathilda saw this and quickly muted her disdain. "What I meant, Mr. Zala," She said in a far calmer, more syrupy tone, "Is that you may not understand the importance of this event. An Orb Head's wedding is a major event in Orb itself, but it is just or even more important when it comes to the Galactic community. Plenty of international and intergalactic leaders will be eager to give their well-wishes, and this is the most important platform for them to do so."

"Yes," Cagalli protested, "But I hardly think that Orb needs to have an influx of two hundred foreign delegates!" She checked the list. "Two hundred and eighteen, to be precise, and I'm not even looking at the list of guests from Orb and its territories itself!"

Mathilda tempered her frosty gaze just in time. "Your Grace, I assure you, this isn't a very long list, and my team is more than equipped to handle events of triple this scale. I daresay that the senior Lord Lyadov and the current Head Emir of the Lyadov House had at least twenty more guests than this current list. But rest assured, this isn't the final list. More names will definitely crop up in the finalised list before the invitations are printed and sent out by the end of this week." She ran a perfectly-polished finger down a list of things she had to discuss with Athrun and Cagalli. "Now, Your Grace, I must clarify what you have in mind as to the wedding decorations, exactly. I trust that you've decided now?"

Cagalli exchanged an embarrassed look with Athrun. They'd tried to spend one evening going over the lengthy catalogue that Mathilda and her team had compiled. But they'd given up eventually and ended up becoming fascinated by some repeat of a cheesy old gangster flick on the television. They'd spent hours watching television with toasted cheese sandwiches instead of going through the catalogue.

"That's the thing. When you last sent my office-aide a message and that catalogue, Ms. Surinth, I had to be honest and say that I didn't really have anything in mind. You and your team were very kind to send a number of shortlisted options—fifteen, in fact. I simply couldn't decide that one was better than the other fourteen." Cagalli explained.

"Well, then, Mr. Zala," Mathilda turned to her next target and said as patiently as she could, "Do you have any preference, since the Orb Princess doesn't have any?" She fetched the catalogue from her leather bag and passed it to him. "I believe that I have sent both of you a copy of this before. Last week, in fact. Have you both settled on one?"

Helplessly, he pretended to focus on a particular one, seeing that Cagalli was signaling that he had to pick something on their behalfs. In truth, she didn't have to signal for him to feel the pressure, for Mathilda's beady gaze and the absence of repeat shows and similar cheap distractions made the situation seem quite urgent. "Er, I quite like this one." Athrun picked out the first one that seemed the simplest. "I uh—," He thought of some random comment, "I like the colours."

"Hmm," Mathilda looked at his choice with a furrowed brow. "This one is a little plain, but I suppose my team could tweak the flowers to suit the decorations better." She looked at her assistant, who had not taken a seat despite Athrun having offered her one. "Put it in the notebook. Better yet, find a team to redesign the flower bouquets—the last one that you sent me couldn't come up with anything spectacular."

"Yes, Mathilda," The young, rather unsophisticated looking girl squeaked.

"I'm sure that you'll find someone to make it perfect." Athrun said reassuringly, and the assistant lowered her eyes quickly, looking embarrassed but pleased at the same time.

"Yes, I'm sure it'll be fine and in time for the wedding." Cagalli said amusedly, having noticed the dynamics in the room. She smiled at the assistant. "Frankly, the flowers aren't too much of a concern."

While Mathilda had a massive team of event-managers to handle all sorts of situations, she must have found it a challenge to manage an event of the scale that the Council of Elders were demanding. Besides, the planning had to be done behind a thick veil of secrecy, and the near-impossibility of preventing reporters from leaking news of the gown, the venue and similar details was certainly putting a line or two into Mathilda's powdered face. For reasons not even fully comprehendible to Athrun, planning the wedding details was a top-secret exercise. Sure, he could understand if the wedding itself was as hushed up as it could possibly be, since sabotage and similar calls for security were quite imminent, but what sabotage-hopeful would give two hoots as to whether the bride's flowers were roses or magnolias?

"The final clarification I have to make for today," Mathilda ran her finger down the list once more, allowing Athrun and Cagalli to make relieved faces at each other, "Is the venue of the honeymoon. Once again, do you have any preferences from the list that I sent two weeks ago?"

Athrun wracked his memory for what they'd ended up doing while trying to choose. Had they ended up watching some dog-show on television, or had they ended up rolling around in bed after getting bored out of their minds from reading the thick bound book of holiday destinations?

Cagalli though, sat up quickly. "To be honest, Ms. Surinth, I noticed that you didn't include the Plants."

Come to think of it, neither had Athrun. But before he could say anything, Cagalli was going on. "I understand that it isn't the first place that springs to mind when one considers a list of places for honeymoon vacations, but I've heard that a few Plant colonies are agricultural showcases and feature quite a bit of natural landscape and—,"

"Oh no, no," Mathilda said, looking quite scandalised. Her assistant looked rather shocked too. "Your Grace, how can one go to the Plants for a honeymoon? If I may just be a bit blunt, I don't think the taxpayers who have contributed to the Nobles' engagement fund would ever approve of a destination any less glamorous than ancient Paris or even Neo-Venezia. And to be honest, Your Grace, the world will be focussing all attentions to every detail of this wedding—surely it is for the public's sake as much as your own. Going to the Plants would attract more criticism and unflattering tabloid talk than necessary."

Her insinuation of the public's disapproval of Athrun and his background was quite clear, even though it was obvious that Mathilda wasn't being more intentionally insulting. She was being quite honest, in fact, and Athrun could appreciate that.

"I understand what you mean," He told her. "I agree with you, actually."

What he said made Mathilda look at him very gratefully.

But Cagalli didn't seem to agree at all. "I don't think that going to the Plants gives any reason for people to say anything without looking like idiots," Cagalli replied before Athrun could get another word in. Normally, she would have been more conscious of herself, but for some reason, she had been riled up enough and was showing it. "As a matter of principle, the public won't be sharing a bed with my fiancé, and they shouldn't really get a say in the marriage or wedding."

"Cagalli," Athrun murmured near her ear, "Just—,"

"No, Athrun." She shook her head, looking sharply back at the head wedding-planner. "Ms. Surinth, I can accept all the reasons in the world as to why one place is better than another. But I can't accept a reason that involves nothing but public approval. I've spent my life pandering and I'm sure that I don't want the holiday destination or even the other wedding details to be focused on gaining the majority in some poll." She picked up a file, gesturing to it. "As it is, we've been conscious in picking a wedding venue that's more nationalistic than romantic, and I've noticed that all the flowers that you've catalogued are common if not native to Orb."

"We can import the hyacinths if you want," Mathilda said quickly, "And we can consider a hybrid of hibiscus that's found in—,"

"That's not the point." Cagalli broke in tightly. "The point is that I want to go to my fiancé's birthplace for my honemoon, public criticism or not."

Mathilda Surinth swallowed, looking as shell-shocked as her assistant. As touched as he was, Athrun decided that it was time to give the poor wedding-planners a bit of a break. On his part, he could understand their difficulty, given that Mathilda Surinth and her team were taking instructions from the Council of Elders but dealing with people who had rather different expectations of a marriage and a wedding.

Surely, the Elders had instructed Mathilda to plan a flawlessly elegant wedding that would receive as little criticism as possible, given that the identity of the groom involved was already such a controversial topic. No wonder Mathilda's eagerness to avoid anything overtly Plant or Zaft-related. Even the rough plans of table seating had involved strategically distanced Zaft officials so that they would not bunch together at any single table.

And willing Cagalli to calm down, he said gently, "Cagalli, I didn't know you wanted to go to the Plants. We can go there any time that you're free." He wondered when the idea had entered her head and why she hadn't told him. From the sound of her intent-filled voice, it was quite clear that she'd been thinking about it. Had she decided to keep it to herself even when he'd mulled over the holiday destination catalogue?

"But that's just it," She insisted, clearly too stubborn to give up. "I want to go to the place that you were born, Athrun—I want to stay in the house that you inherited. I don't want to go to some holiday destination that involves cameras trying to track us down with every place that we set foot in. I don't care even if the public has already voted as to the destination of choice—," she pointed to some cut-out in a high-society magazine that Mathilda had brought along. "At the risk of sounding like a spoilt brat, I will speak my mind with you, Ms. Surinth. I've been to the Swiss Alps and Paris before—I don't believe that I need to see the same things all over again but with more media dogs tagging along this time."

"But, Your Grace," Mathilda cut in swiftly. "The paparazzi will be everywhere no matter where you go. My team has been liaising with the Orb national security department and you will be safe and undisturbed even in typically crowded tourist destinations. I might as well say now that the media will be told that you and Mr. Zala will be in a place that's different from your choice of a honeymoon destination, as part of the security procedure. Only after you return, will the photographs and the information be told to the press."

"To avoid the crowds, I suppose." Athrun muttered.

"And possible assailants," Mathilda said pointedly at Athrun. Cagalli began to say something, but Mathilda carried on quickly and smoothly. "I must be cordial however, and say that if you go to the Plants, it is more likely that the media will be even more intrigued with your choice of destination than if it had been say, the Swiss Alps, which incidentally, is the place the public apparently has in mind for the two of you."

"But this isn't some mad game show where you can get the participants to do whatever the watchers vote for them to—," Cagalli began to say unhappily, except that Athrun took her hand and squeezed it slightly.

He had to agree with Mathilda objectively, and as he looked at her firm ways and considered her logic, he found himself more and more impressed by a character that he hadn't quite taken to in the first place.

"I agree with you, Ms. Surinth," Athrun said smoothly. "We'll decide by tomorrow and let your secretary know." He glanced at Mathilda's assistant, who had been busy scribbling then but now blushed a deep pink. "I'm sure we'll be quite safe no matter where we go, if it's your team handling the wedding and the honeymoon."

His words must have flattered Mathilda, for she beamed at him. Feeling like he finally had her on his side, Athrun ventured to make his own request.

"And if it's not too much trouble," Athrun added, pulling out a significantly shorter list from a personal file next to him. Cagalli stared at him in surprise, obviously not realising that he'd done some planning on his own. "Er—this is our own guest list. We'd just like your team to confirm that the names are already on the guest list, or to be added if they aren't."

Mathilda took the list delicately with both hands, and then fetched her reading glasses. She tucked her sternly-cut bob behind an ear, her eyes scanning through very swiftly, but her lips pursed a little in a matter of moments. "Ah—yes, I see we may have missed out one or two names. If I may just clarify—," She took off her glasses, looking at Athrun. "May I know why Ledonir Kisaka and a few others are being invited? Mr. Kisaka has retired for many years, and I distinctively cannot recall this Erica Simmons person. And who is Mwu and Murrue La Fllaga? Or Sai Argle and Mirallia Haww? And who is Mana Hammersmith? Are they contacts of yours, Mr. Zala?" She clucked her tongue at him. "Not to be patronising, Mr. Zala, but generally there are limited places and not everybody you know can be brought along—,"

"Oh, I can assure you that Mana Hammersmith more than a contact, Ms. Surinth." Athrun said. He watched as Cagalli began to bristle indignantly. "She and these others are as good as my fiancee's family, Ms. Surinth, and that makes them people that we must have at the wedding."

"Of course," Mathilda demurred immediately. Clearly, the double standards of service that she used on Cagalli in comparison to Athrun were vastly different. But he kept his thoughts to himself and smiled to convey his thanks to Mathilda. "We'll get tables for them too."

"Thank you," Cagalli said grudgingly to Mathilda. "I'd like them to be present."

"They will be, won't they, Ms. Surinth?" Athrun asked meaningfully.

"Of course." She said with her practised smile. He returned it with one of his own.

"That's good then," Athrun said firmly, sensing her hesitation. "I expect nothing less from you and your team." He looked at the guest-list with a slight grimace, thinking of whether they'd have to make rounds at all the tables. "And if there's nothing else, would you like a refill?"

"Oh no," Mathilda said quickly, standing up and signalling for her waiting assistant to fetch her things. "I'm quite done here. Don't bother sending me out, Mr. Zala and Your Grace, and pleasant afternoon."

"You too, Ms. Surinth." Athrun said courteously. He smiled. "Thank you for all the hard work you've been putting in, and I do insist on sending you to the door at the very least." But as he walked them through the main hall and waved them off, Cagalli did not follow. The assistant cast him a worried look as she trotted after Mathilda, and it was quite clear that she had sensed Cagalli's slight dissatisfaction too.

Even when he closed the door and returned to her, Cagalli sat quietly, saying nothing. A small frown had entered her face for she was deep in thought, but she straightened a little when Athrun took her hand in his.

"All the planning's getting to you, isn't it?"

"No," She assured him. "I'm really very fortunate to have such a dedicated bunch of people who actually care—," She paused, giggling, "— about the kind of flowers being flown in." But she sobered. "It's just that, I feel like this wedding isn't ours as much as theirs."

"Didn't you have to go through all this once?" He asked her as neutrally as he could."Er—with your last wedding?"

"Not really." She sounded a little lost. Her tone had suggested to Athrun that she'd either been involved in her last wedding's plans to a very slight degree, or that it hadn't been of this scale. "I mean, it was a very big wedding but—," She swallowed. "I don't know."

From the likelihood of things, it had been the former, which made him realise how rushed her wedding to Yuna Roma Seiran must have been. The chances of the Seirans having planned a wedding from the minute she'd come back to Orb after the First war were very, very likely, and she'd been rushed into the wedding before she could really change her mind.

Cagalli looked bewildered. "I was just told to get ready to be fetched at a certain date and they brought over the gown and flowers and everything." She tilted her head, looking very confused. "Come to think of it, I don't remember doing much planning or having to make any decisions. I only had to sign the marital documents and—," Her voice trailed off.

And from the growing comprehension in Cagalli's expression, she had come to the same conclusion as him.

She was the first to speak, and when she did, she sounded highly upset. "I'm fortunate, I really am. I don't have to care about all these details the way a normal bride would but—," Cagalli looked down, unable to hold his gaze. She swallowed to find her words. "My first wedding was planned by people who wanted me out of the way. My father traded my interests for what he thought was Orb's greater concerns. And the wedding that I want now isn't quite mine either." Her expression became miserable. "Why wasn't I ever my own person?"

"But you are." Athrun told her gently. "That's why I can be here."

She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her voice trembling. "That's true. But I think what Mathilda Surinth said is true, even if I don't want it to be that way. This whole wedding's really just an exercise in trying to make the public less critical of what I've chosen— of the person that I want to be with. But what about you? I can't stand seeing you being thrown to the sidelines like your view doesn't matter and—,"

"Hush," He said softly. "It's not so bad as you fear, and you have to stop worrying so much about me. Besides, if you want to visit the house in the Plants, I'm sure we'll have a chance soon."

"You think?" Cagalli mumbled. "At the rate we're going, I think the Council of Elders are going to downplay everything that's linked to the Plants and Zaft—even if it's bordering on overcompensation. It's a fact that you're a Coordinator and that you were tied to Zaft for a long time. If I don't push to go to the Plants, they'll never let me go."

"Well," Athrun told her. "We can go during our pre-wedding preparations." He pulled her away to look at her. "Secretly, if we have to." And despite her worried expression, he laughed. "Although I can't say that Mathilda Surinth was wrong about Plant being not much of a tourist destination. I'm sure that you'll be bored out of your mind when I bring you to the Plants for more than three days."

"It's not like we'll get to be regular tourists in the first place," Cagalli muttered, clinging back to him. "At least, I'd get to be in a place that wouldn't require us pretending to want to ski and rubbish like that."

"Somebody's jaded," Athrun teased. "Are you sure you're not keen on seeing the Alps with me?"

"Well," She said thoughtfully, beginning to pull away and consider what he'd said. "I've never been fond of skiing but I'm sure it would be fun with you. But what are the odds that we'd get to ski undisturbed?"

"What are the odds that we'd get to be undisturbed in the Plants?" He said reasonably. "And why not Paris or Neo-Venezia?" He looked at her gently. "I never got a chance to tour Neo-Venezia with you—why not go there and enjoy those festivals to the extent that we can?"

"I suppose I was just keen to pick something without having to be careful about what the public would say," She admitted, leaning her head against his shoulder. "For once, I just didn't want to have to care about all this nonsense and rumours that your being here is a political ploy that Plant has manoeuvred. Why didn't you try and convince her to let us go to the Plants, Athrun?"

"I could try if you really want to go there." He whispered, kissing her on her cheek. "But I just think it's not worth pushing to go there—I don't want this wedding to have any hiccups or any bad press. She's been working hard to make people more than excited in a good way about this wedding, Cagalli. Look at all the positive coverage that she's earned for you," He picked up another clipping to show write-ups on the gown designers that had been picked and the enthusiastic response from members of the public.

Looking at the clipping, Cagalli smiled a little, although it was a bit unwilling. "I know what you mean. She's really good at what she does."

Already, thanks to a feature that Mathilda Surinth had planned in the most glamorous, upper-crust magazines, there had been a rush for rubies like the one on the Orb Princess' engagement ring. And looking at one clipping, Athrun could see that the newspapers had been grudgingly approving of his unconventional choice of a ring.

"Let's not ruin her efforts at projecting a Cinderalla image of this wedding, shall we?" He grinned at Cagalli. Mathilda Surinth had been playing every possible positive thing to its potential. The public's excitement at what had been touted as the event of the year had certainly muted some of their less than savoury thoughts about Athrun Zala.

"Yeah?" Cagalli snorted, beginning to cheer up. "In her mind, she thinks of you as the Cinderella-character; the one who went from rags to riches—the man who's clawed his way up into high society." She began to look a little miffed again. "If only she would be more objective and realise that you weren't exactly from the gutters of Plants—," She looked at him curiously. "Are there gutters in Plants?"

"No, it's a very different drainage system, since we're basically suspended in space. Now that you mention it-," He mused, and then caught himself in time. "Hey, digression!"

"Sorry." She giggled. "It's just that Mathilda Surinth can be so horrible at times!"

"She's not a bad sort if you learn how to deal with her." Athrun pointed out. As superficial and as silly as all this hype was, it was still beneficial to Athrun. If the public approved about something as minor as a ring's gemstone, he was all for letting them go ahead with it, even if they weren't exactly stamping a mark of approval on him as the bridegroom in mind.

Cagalli frowned wanly. "I guess I just can't stand how she treats you. She seems all polite and nice, but I know she doesn't really like the both of us." Her shoulders sagged a little and her lips turned downwards. "By today, I'm sure she's going to have very violent and pleasurable dreams of shredding me with a toaster. You too—did you see the look on her face when you picked out the first set of decorations and mumbled something about liking the colour?"

"Oh, don't worry." Athrun said smilingly. "By the time the wedding comes, I'm sure I'd have charmed her socks off."

"Sure," Cagalli began to laugh in earnest, tweaking his ear playfully. "You've already charmed the socks off her assistant. I wouldn't expect you to have difficulty with Mathilda Surinth."

"Hell," Athrun chuckled. "I've already gotten a ring onto the Orb Princess' hand. It can't get too hard from here."

She smacked him with a file, and a pamphlet showcasing Neo-Venezia fell out. As he laughed, bending to pick it, he thought of the time that he'd avoided her. Suddenly, he wanted to go back there. He looked at the pictures of the canals and the quaint streets and he wondered if he could ever make up for his mistakes.

"Let's take her suggestion," He told Cagalli lightly. "Let's go somewhere conventionally romantic like what the public wants. If they want a show, we'll give them a show." His voice grew in confidence. "They'll have their fun and we'll have ours no matter where we go."

"Neo-Venezia," She read briefly. She snorted, pointing at the slogans in curly, fancy fonts. "Sounds like the usual honeymoon piffle."

"It is," He laughed with her. "Which is precisely why nobody will be able to say anything political about where we've gone—except that it's a very, very safe choice."

"I'm not sure I like that place though." Cagalli mumbled. "It's beautiful and all that, but I don't recall ever being attached to it." She looked at him ruefully. "I haven't told you before, have I? Maybe you've forgotten too—it was just one of those little events and some soiree there at some time—, She trailed away, looking embarrassed. "Never mind. You probably don't remember."

But he did. He remembered Neo-Venezia for its incompleteness, for the regrets he'd had in that place. He'd seen her there before and he'd longed to go to her and to lead her to a place where they could be alone, where he'd be able to tell her exactly what he was thinking and what he was going through. But the thought of her being affected by his plans and the way that he'd been about to break apart had been as good as a warning to himself, and he'd somehow managed to keep away.

Cagalli began to talk of other places, bringing out other brochures. But as attentive as he seemed, he held onto one brochure and thought of the lost time of the past.

All evening, he'd tried not to watch her; tried not to look at her in that lovely auburn gown and the way that everybody was admiring her. And when he'd left to be alone, far too distracted to try and make small, meaningless conversation, he had sensed that she would follow. Somehow, she'd ended up where he was, but he'd hidden behind some young saplings and had watched as she'd stared miserably into distance, apparently lost in thoughts.

Now, Athrun decided, he was sure that he wanted to go back. He put the brochure in her hands, and she looked at him in surprise. "You're still keen on Neo-Venezia? But what about Rome?" She looked carefully at him, clucking her tongue. "Have you been listening to me harp about Rome?"

"Not really," He admitted hesitantly and a little sheepishly. "I want to go back to Neo-Venezia."

"I don't mind actually," She said, peering at the brochure. "Like Mathilda Surinth said, we're not going to be normal tourists even if we want to be, and you never know, Neo-Venezia might be even more charming on a second visit. But we've both been there before, so I'm not sure it won't bore you—,"

"No, it's a great place!" He promptly made excuses about the weather being just right at this time of the year and gave her reasons that seemed more and more disconnected even to himself.

But when she took his face in her hands and looked carefully at him, he fell silent.

For it was clear then, that she too, had remembered how it had felt to be passed by without a chance of reaching out to a person that mattered.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.

* * *

**Chapter 6

* * *

The men present had been blindfolded and bound; drugged in their own houses, at their own parties, and none the wiser as to what was happening.

They'd been woken up by cold water. For the past hour, they'd claimed not to know anything about the world outside the one that they'd paid to stay in; they'd claimed that they had no way of communicating outside the Isle. They claimed that they didn't know who it was that was instigating the revolt—that they didn't know who, amongst all of them on the Isle, had access to the outside world.

Unable to see anything, they were terrified. They babbled as the water came at them and made them feel as if they were drowning; they gasped and screamed and begged to see. One refused to answer the questions—he was so fearful that he tried to break from his bonds. He was rewarded with a swift kick to his abdomen. The other begged to have his blindfold taken off—the person asking the questions refused this flatly through the voice modifier.

Watching his newest secondary aide carry out her instructions, the Fourth Eye nodded with approval. Even if Alstarice Krieg did not generally take to Rune Estragon, the latter had certainly proven to be a capable instructor.

"Why don't you make her use Barnett Romia's sodium amytal?" The voice of the man standing next to Alstarice Krieg sounded more like a child's. "Because it's classified as torture under Galactic Declaration of Human Rights?"

Alstarice Krieg barked a short spurt of laughter."Like waterboarding or a good old battering isn't? If what we're going isn't considered intimidation or torture to get a confession, I'll be disappointed." He looked squarely at his aide. "Because that's the point of this effort, no?"

His voice echoed in their partitioned side of the room, but the men and the interrogator on the other side heard nothing of his amusement. As he looked at Jin Yellenov, one of his secondary aides, he noted with some disapproval that Jin was nothing short of pale. "Come now, you must remember that there are no rights to speak of on this Isle with regards to those who seek it as an asylum. They voluntarily relinquished it—if they had any at all by the time they came here. They were criminals brought here at that time—Galactic Human Rights concerning civilians and criminals alike be damned."

"But what about those who were born here?" Jin questioned queasily. "Or those who were allowed to come here as part of the criminals' families to avoid the senseless Coordinator-Natural slaughters? Surely, they didn't rescind their rights."

"But they did." Alstarice told him. "These things can be done quite easily in contracts when a family member is telling you that you have to run with him or her for all your lives. Oh, don't fret—there's no real way of them demanding legal appeals as to the contractual validity of what they signed when they came here." He looked at the screen. "You know the procedures, don't you? Once they admit to the crimes that they committed in the past or in these men's case—the violation of the rules that they agreed to observe on the Isle, they will be deported back to the Plants for their trial. Closed trials, of course."

"But what if they say that they were tortured?" Jin argued. "Surely the judges present will hear that?"

"Oh, for the love of pants, I don't know why you're so worried." Alstarice said sharply. "Should they claim that they were intimidated into giving statements or pleading guilty, you won't be affected." He pointed at the other aide at the other side of the room. "If there's anyone affected, it'll be her and me—the superior and supervisor who gave instructions. Oh, and the Intelligence Council that ordered this. But I can probably tell you that plenty of them in the Council also sit on benches."

"But can rights be given up like that?" Jin said. There was an awful doubt in his eyes, but now it only made Alstarice smile a little more broadly.

"Why not?" Alstarice tapped his fingers against the thick glass. "The superpowers and the colonies and states only became parties to that Treaty years _after_ the Isle was established. In fact, the talks by those politicians and diplomats to have a Galactic Declaration of Human Rights came about precisely because of the First War's results. Hell, the Isle came about because there was no such Declaration and no way to get that kind of Declaration at the time of the budding conflict."

He held up a hand, ticking off things with his fingers. "Show-trials in Earth Alliance areas for accused Coordinators. You know, they would have received fairer trials had they been Naturals accused even of the same crimes. And there were slaughters and violent acts towards Coordinators which predominantly Natural governments closed their eyes to, and even the legalisation of societies and churches' trusts to propagate anti-Coordinator sentiments. The whole gamut—even right before war was formally declared. All that appeasement of the Coordinators towards the Naturals—for nothing. No wonder there was a change of office very quickly when Siegel Clyne continued to advocate peace and tolerance after the Junius Seven incident."

"I can see why Siegel Clyne did what he did in the last months of his terms though. He decided that it was better for the Coordinators stuck in Earth Alliance areas to be put away into a bubble jail of sorts." Jin said slowly.

"But the Coordinators who got the benefits of his last decision as the Plant Chairman were probably criminals in the first place."

"We don't know that!" Jin protested. "They haven't been through trials yet!"

"Well, at that time, Siegel Clyne thought that it was impossible to have fair trials in the Earth Alliance when it was the Naturals doing the accusing and prosecuting at that time." Alstarice made a grimace as he reached into his pocket for a cigar, and Jin hurried to light it. "That's precisely why Siegel Clyne conceived the Isle—he wanted all the accused Coordinators in the Earth Alliance zones to have a fair trial at some point in the future when the Coordinator-Natural conflict had blown over. But more than ten years have passed since the start of the Isle- nearly twenty, even. Do you think there's any real hope of conviction through the usual criminal procedures and evidential rules? No. It's better to be safe than sorry— the Plant of today doesn't need an Isle any more or these people on the Isles."

"And their families that they brought over?" Jin looked almost weak in the smoke that Alstarice puffed leisurely.

"Oh, that was a natural consequence of his idea—had their families been left behind, the already angry Naturals would have taken their spite out on the accused Coordinators' families." Alstarice savoured his cigar with relish. "It's not as bad as you make it sound, Jin. That's why we had half the Eyes draw up information about these family members and their descendants to separate them from the original accused Coordinators brought here to the Isle."

"But now that Rune Estragon's left—,"

"The Sixth's Eye's in charge now." Alstarice cut him off brusquely. "She's as capable as that man of processing the information and making the decisions as to those who will face trial in Plant."

"Siegel Clyne was right when he came up with this idea of the Isle then," Jin muttered. His throat was dry as he watched the scene unfolding before him. "He had been right about how it would take a war of madness and insane proportions before the Naturals and Coordinators alike agreed that senseless killing and unfair trials based on difference in genetics—the new genocide born from their conflicts—was unlawful."

"Oh, Mr. Clyne wasn't right in the least," Alstarice said dismissively. "It didn't take one war for them to figure out that they needed something like the Galactic Declaration of Human Rights. It took them two." He stamped out his cigar. "And the best part about it is that it's applied differently in every place, if at all." He grinned ghoulishly. "The last time any state threatened to pass economic sanctions on Orb's decision to go ahead and develop more military technology, the Orb diplomat just sat there trying not to laugh. Threats to stop trading are really just threats without any power, don't you think?"

Jin began to say something, but Alstarice cut him off. "Now that's enough from you. These people were brought here precisely because there was no assurance that they would face a fair trial in the Natural zones that they'd lived in then. They had no such rights to speak of then, and they have no such rights to speak of now. The laws that govern them in this place are simply those that are set by the Intelligence Council—that access to information is mostly denied or highly limited, along with the usual criminal laws that they once flouted in some way or another-," He laughed once more, "And that all corpses of dead persons must be deposited within twenty-four hours of discovery at the approved sites. That is all. You will do well to remember it, like them."

He looked back at the men in their chairs beyond the screen. "You ask me why I don't let her use the truth serum that Barnett Romia came up with. But it doesn't always do the job," Alstarice Krieg said blithely. "Nothing moves faster than fear."

"Who are you?" One of the blindfolded people screamed beyond the screen. "I didn't break any rules! What does Plant want?"

"I can't see! I'm not the one who contacted someone outside the Isle!" The other one cried. "I didn't commit any crime in the past! I just came here with my uncle! He's dead now—I don't know if he really killed anyone in the past! I don't know! But I didn't do anything wrong—there or here! Let me see! Please!"

Not that they could see him even if his aide had removed their blindfolds, of course. His quarters on the second Isle consisted of a rather simple mansion next to the sprawling bungalows his neighbours occupied, but it was filled with rooms that functioned rather well for the current purposes.

They stared through the two-way mirror, and Alstarice barked a laugh. "She's competent, I'll give you that. Rune Estragon taught her well."

Jin was slightly nauseous. He wasn't used to the kind of interrogation that people in the other room were going through, for his job as the fourth Eye's aide was mostly to facilitate Alstarice's cover as a businessman outside the Isle. Even in Zaft, he'd mostly handled clerical work, although that was precisely what he excelled in.

He was arguably more genteel than the other aides, particularly in comparison to those like the Seventh Eye's favourite freak, Alstarice mused. That Lucretzia Nombre was really a lunatic, even if the normal man would find her attractive at first glance. As for this new aide, Alstarice was finding her a far more efficient interrogator than his other aides, despite their age and experience as compared to hers.

All in all, Jin was rather weak-stomached in comparison to all the aides. His grasp of languages was quite extraordinary and had proven to be invaluable, but it was regretful, Alstarice thought, that Jin Yellenov was not good at steeling himself.

"How old is she?" Jin whispered. Alstarice turned away from the mirror and took his eyes off the activities in the next room. He said with a shrug, "The records are probably a little inaccurate, but she's probably around seventeen or eighteen."

His aide looked back at his younger colleague. In the next room, the girl's expression could not be seen because her back was turned towards them. But as one of the men who was bound and blindfolded in his chair spat something at her, Alstarice and his aide saw her hand strike against the offender's cheek. Within minutes, a thin trickle of blood seeped from his lips. She'd been waiting for information for hours—it was quite clear to Alstarice and Jin that she could stomach the nauseating fear of those before her and used it to her advantage.

"She's so young." Jin muttered. He thought about Epstein Cleamont, the former primary aide of the previous Fifth Eye. While the aides were generally not used to dealing with people beyond their superiors and the people their superiors got involved in, Jin had been on rather good terms with Epstein all along. He'd seen enough of the current Fifth Eye to know that Epstein Cleamont had treated his subordinate colleagues as his own children, despite the very slight difference in their ages.

What would Epstein his predecessor think, Jin wondered, if he could see this aide being put to do the dirty work?

There were still many people left on the various Isles, and the aides were still sorting them out still. They'd been rounded up, group by group; section by section, without them even knowing. There were those Coordinators who'd committed crimes and had been brought here to avoid unfair or excessive persecution during the Coordinator-Natural wars. And then there were the children who'd been born on the Isle, honestly believing that this place was their home and that the outside world wasn't worth venturing out to.

How could one differentiate them in the society that had emerged from bringing all these people here? And even more difficult; how were the aides to keep policing them as people were selected and brought back to the Plants to face their trials? Even as the earliest ones had been taken away, it had been difficult for the people around them not to notice their absence. It didn't take much imagination for them to guess what was going on—that the Isle was being shut down.

The head of the operation to shut the Isle down had been Rune Estragon, and he'd started with the petty ones. It had been easy for him to suss out those who could been sent back to the Plants without too much trouble; he'd had all his connections and he'd been embedded in their societies and their parties for so long. And after a while, so many of them were missing. It only took a little bit of imagination to realise that if those who'd vanished hadn't been killed, they'd been deported. And so after a while, the Isle-dwellers had realised what was going on, even if information was being withheld.

But to have a rebellion on the Seventh Isle—that had been different. To have a group of people on the Seventh Isle take the others hostage and demand that the Intelligencers keeping control of them reveal their identities—that reeked of something more than imagination and logic.

Alstarice Krieg was right, Jin told himself. Someone on the Seventh Isle had access to the outside world and knew that amongst them, they were being watched by people sent in from the Plants. It was only a matter of time before the person with access to the world outside got information relating to the Eyes and their aides' identities.

Insofar, the plans to close the Isle had involved rehabilitation of those who were born on the Isle and had gotten used to a lifestyle with no concept of any rules governing them except tight information control and no killing. Those plans though, had been tweaked as of late. Even those who'd technically committed no crime outside or on the Isle would have to be watched tightly. The Seventh Isle was still in a mess, although the Eyes had rounded up a few suspects.

Now, Jin watched as the suspects cried out. Their fear was obvious even with their blocked expressions.

"She's been well-trained, regardless of her youth." Alstarice told him, folding his hands at his back. "She and her twin were brought here as refugees. Maybe it was easier for him to train them from young. They don't know any better than to take instructions and to follow them—especially this one." He looked at Jin carelessly. "I'm thinking that if we need any snooping at those social gatherings, this aide will prove suitable."

He flicked his eyes back to the girl in the next room. "She's a pretty little thing, no?"

Jin looked uneasily at him, but Alstarice only laughed. "You don't think so?"

Jin didn't know what to say. Each time he'd trained with this colleague, she'd said nothing to him. Granted, he'd begun giving her language lessons on Alstarice Krieg's instructions, but even then, she didn't seem to have anything to express or say to him.

Alstarice looked back at the girl. "Estragon didn't want his aides dealing with anything that he did—the twins, in particular. He used another spy, but look where that landed him. That lover he took and used as a spy. And for what?" His expression hardened. "Silly bastard. If only he could see that his previous aide has far surpassed him in what he used to excel in—intimidation and mind games."

"He's not here anymore." Jin said quietly. A bead of sweat made its uneasy way down his dark brow. "He won't come back."

True, that." Alstarice laughed, although there was cynicism in his voice. "Oh, let's not talk about him anymore."

But the aides had been talking about it amongst themselves for weeks even after Athrun Zala had tendered in his resignation as an Eye and as a member of the Intelligence Council. The latter job had been mostly a cover for his continued occupation on the Isle, but it had been a useful cover and an actual job that anyone in his position would have held onto after leaving the Isle. It had been a surprising turn of events to hear about amongst the Numbers, Eyes and their aides.

Nobody had ever left the Isle unless they'd died or been terminated—and certainly not an Eye. Epstein Cleamont's predecessor had been the first, and the Numbers were quite certain that he would be the last too. Technically, the Eyes and their aides were under contracts of employment, but a renewal once every five years was given as a default unless anyone requested otherwise. No Eye had asked to leave the Isle yet—nobody except Rune Estragon. And even then, there were rumours amongst the aides that he'd forced his way out.

As Alstarice turned back, watching his newest aide strike those brought in for interrogation over and over again, Jin Yellenov wondered if his superior would ever leave the Isle. He watched Alstarice smile, pleased to see that the girl's hand had never faltered once. Nor did her expression give anything away when she finally turned around and signalled that they had no other information to give.

Jin doubted that this Eye would want the Isle to be shut down so quickly.

And Alstarice picked up his communication device. Linked to the earpiece that his new aide wore, his instructions were simple, given that he'd seen enough to know that these men were not the informants, even if they'd suspected enough. "Go to the truth-serum treatment, just to be sure. Once they're in the clear, offer them the usual terms. Once they agree, you may release them back to the Seventh Isle." He smirked, flicking his eyes to Jin. "I'm thinking that they'll agree within three minutes of your asking. After this, start with the next batch."

The two men watched as the girl behind the glass turned around. She was a beautiful specimen, pale-skinned and willowy, and her hair seemed to absorb light with its silvery tones. When she'd entered the close-knit society of the Isle-dwellers, it had taken little effort on her part to gain enough access to eavesdrop and to report information back to the Eyes.

It was easy to see why, Jin noted, what with that intelligent gaze and her attractiveness. But her face was cold and her eyes were unfeeling, and he felt slightly uncomfortable as she looked back at him.

"Roger." Cartesia Daemon affirmed tonelessly.

* * *

The phone—no, the phones— were ringing.

Anyone would have been slightly unnerved at realising that a symphony of recorded tunes routinely echoed from every possible place each time anyone made a call to the Atha Estate. The first time that he'd realised it, Athrun had been rudely interrupted while trying to pin Cagalli to the living room's carpet.

While the problem didn't seem so apparent if they were in sound-proofed rooms like their bedroom, the kitchen and the living room were places where every phone in the house could be heard. It didn't help that there were so many.

So on this morning, Athrun and Cagalli stood in a kitchen, listening to all the phones in the house ringing at the same time.

"Help, Athrun!" Cagalli was frantically frying an egg while looking highly harassed. He couldn't blame her, for when one phone rang, the house was transformed into a hive of noise. She skipped on the spot, clearly flustered and rather perturbed by the noise. "I got it the last time—you should do it now!"

"What," He said exasperatedly, flipping pancakes in another corner of the kitchen, "Is the point of having a cordless phone when you have one in nearly every room of the house?"

"I don't know, I don't know, I got those on a whim!" Cagalli squeaked haplessly, cracking another egg into the pan. With her apron, she looked like a regular housewife with her slightly flustered expression and bright eyes. He nearly chuckled at the thought—it was easy to forget that there was no way that she would ever be an average housewife. Likewise, Athrun was more used to flipping men over his shoulder than pancakes over the stove.

"I swear, I never thought it would be this noisy; I'm going to go into an epileptic fit!"

"Didn't you ever realise how noisy it was?" Athrun asked, trying to put the pancakes onto a plate with one hand and trying to turn off the stove with the other. The phones, if possible, seemed to be getting louder.

"No!" She protested in her defence. "Nobody ever called the house much, so I didn't realise how darn noisy all these phones would be! Not like now, when the bodyguards call every morning every time they are about to arrive! I didn't have bodyguards hanging around every morning, not like now! Just pick it up already!"

And moving out of the kitchen, Athrun managed to slip out of the kitchen slippers and into the only pair of house-slippers that he could spot. He must have left his somewhere, and he was forced to borrow Cagalli's. Those were a fluffy, bunny-eared pair that squeaked irritatingly in musical notes as he trundled to the nearest cordless phone. Those now added to the cacophony of phones and he cursed them inwardly. Whoever had given those to her, he decided, ought to be strangled.

By the time he got to the phone, it felt like he had braved deserts and storms.

"Morning." Athrun said hastily, rather glad that the noises all over the house had stopped. "May I know who is speaking?"

"This is Lacus speaking." Her calm voice soothed Athrun's nerves somewhat in the wake of the phones' disruption to what should have been a peaceful morning. "I hope you and Cagalli aren't tying yourselves in a knot over the picnic."

Athrun grinned, thinking of Cagalli's busy morning and her muttered curses as she'd prepared sandwiches. The phones' ringing had not helped her. "Oh no, we're doing perfectly well. In fact, I daresay that we'll make it there in time."

The truth was that they'd overslept because of last night's excitement, and now they were rushing to prepare food for the potluck-cum-picnic with Kira's family and the children at Markio's place. Cagalli of course, had insisted that she and Athrun contribute to the nutrition pool at the picnic, and they'd tied on aprons in a hurry and were still running all over the kitchen like deranged cooks.

"I see." Lacus said, sounding mildly amused. Her tone definitely suggested that she must have guessed exactly what Athrun and Cagalli were up to in the kitchen. "Well, you will please just convey the message to Cagalli that she doesn't need to cook up a storm—we can always do that when she gets here. Oh, and please remind her to bring some black pepper for the pickles—we've run out of that."

"Of course." Athrun told her smilingly. "We'll see you this afternoon then."

He replaced the receiver, calling loudly to Cagalli, "She says that you don't have to cook up a storm just yet, Cagalli!"

"Oh no, we're not!" She hollered back. "We're just you know— getting ready!"

Thankful to dump the bunny slippers back to where he'd found those, Athrun moved back into the kitchen, looking at her flushed face. "Just to check, Cagalli. Who gave you those bunny slippers?"

"Oh, Lacus." She said distractedly. "A little wacky, but really cute, no?"

He shook his head, not sure what to say, and then focused on the results of their morning endeavours. "That's a small mountain that we've made out of sandwiches, Cagalli. You sure the children will eat that much?"

"They're growing," She insisted, still packing more into boxes. "I'm sure it'll be slightly insufficient, in fact."

Before he could point out that children were unlikely to have the appetites of grown-men, the phones started ringing again. Before she could say anything, Athrun sighed and scooted out. "The things I do for you."

"I promise; we'll talk about those after this call!" Cagalli's eyes followed him gratefully as she continued cooking. He laughed, giving her a thumbs up as he wiggled into the bunny slippers again. That they were Lacus' gift made him refrain from cursing them for the second time.

"Renton, I presume?" Athrun said breathlessly, having squeaked all the way to the phone once again. "Are you nearing the estate?"

"Good morning, Mr. Zala." The hesitation in Cagalli's current bodyguard's voice was clear, but at least he sounded friendly enough. "We're nearly done with the security clearance—I think your bodyguards were in front of us. I see the car behind ours. If you'll be so kind to tell Your Grace that we'll arrive in ten minutes, please."

"That's strange," Athrun mused. "I thought Cagalli agreed that we didn't require all four of you to get us to the shuttle grounds on this weekend?"

"Oh yes, Mr. Zala, Her Grace did tell us, but—," Renton paused. "Er—we thought we'd better all go."

"Right." Athrun said slowly. He could sense what was going on, particularly because Cagalli's long-time bodyguards had always been rather suspicious of him. But he'd always known that as clearly as he'd realised that the bodyguards that the Security Department of Orb had assigned him were there to watch him rather than watch over him. "Well, no matter. We'd feel safer with the four of you."

"Of course." Renton said, sounding even more mistrustful of Athrun.

In the meantime, Cagalli appeared at the kitchen doorway and promptly started signalling with her hands. Evidently, she had finished packing the incredible number of sandwiches.

Chuckling, Athrun conveyed her intentions. "Renton, Cagalli wants you to park the car for a while when you finish clearing the security. She wants you to have some scrambled eggs. Er—on your way in, invite my bodyguards too."

Cagalli nodded her approval, giving him a beaming smile and another thumbs-up that he returned. But for her, Athrun wasn't sure that he would have considered inviting his own set of surly, sullen bodyguards as breakfast-guests. It was just so like Cagalli to want to establish a friendship with her bodyguards.

Athrun, on the other hand, wasn't really the sort. Unlike Cagalli, he was a firm believer that such jobs required nothing short of cold professionalism, and he subscribed to the opposite of the friendly relationship Cagalli had with her bodyguards. In fact, he was quite sure that the unusually crowded breakfast table would be filled with awkward silences this morning.

As it was, Renton, one of Cagalli's bodyguards, sounded both delighted and scandalised at the invitation. "Oh no, no, I couldn't possibly, Mr. Zala—thank her for me. I'll pass the message on to your bodyguards but Scott and I simply can't—,"

"Oh yes, you can." Athrun cupped the mouthpiece, turning away slightly and lowering his voice. "I'm telling you that she woke up an hour early and made pancakes from scratch. You better hustle yourselves in here, and fast." He took away his hand, speaking normally and a little too enthusiastically. "Right, I'll see you lot in here in five minutes!"

"The bodyguards will be in shortly." He told her, once he'd replaced the receiver. This time, he did the clever thing and brought the phone with him to the kitchen. "Oh and guess what? I figured out how to use the cordless phone."

"Genius. And what were you mumbling about before this?" She said distractedly in the kitchen's doorway, looking back at the stove where she'd left something cooking.

"Oh nothing, nothing at all." He threw off the bunny slippers that squeaked happily and pointed to those in mild disdain. "I swear, you live in a crazy house."

"I know." Cagalli pecked him on his cheek and sighed as they moved back into the kitchen to survey the sandwiches that he'd helped her make. "Now, talk to me about all those phones."

"I'm going to remove half of those." He said firmly, checking the stoves. "You can give those to anyone who wants those. Tell me again, how you ended up with so many."

"Like I said, I bought those phones on a whim some years back!" Cagalli retorted.

"Right." He said in disbelief. "And they multiplied like bunnies?"

"Almost. I got my first cordless phone and thought it was so amazing that I sent for a few more! In the past, I never thought that I'd need to have a morning call from bodyguards every day—I never thought that I'd have anyone but Aaron or maybe some friends calling the house." She looked at him sheepishly. "And I was right, until recently."

"Thanks to my presence here," Athrun said drily, coming to her and winding his arms around her, "Mornings are unlikely to be a period of peace and quiet."

"It's not that bad," She argued, looking slightly edgy.

"You think?" He teased. "Before I was found to be living here, you got away with driving yourself to work and walking around the place without bodyguards." He'd realised quite quickly that Cagalli was rather sensitive about anything that suggested he'd disrupted her way of life. Yet, Athrun was quite sure that over time, she'd accept it as a fact. Already, it was difficult not to notice that he had caused changes in her life.

For instance, the procedure that the Orb security department had originally arranged for the Orb Head had been reinforced. It had also been applied to Athrun, what with Athrun and Cagalli both having to be sent to work in separate cars by bodyguards. Each morning, the bodyguards called the house to give their employers a few minutes of notice before they arrived. But given the numerous cordless phones in the house, it was a rather noisy procedure.

"How have we been able to stand it every morning?" Athrun wondered. "Eating breakfast together and then running to fetch one of the thousand phones in this place?"

"Oh, you exaggerate." She laughed. "There are only twenty-four."

"Close to a thousand then." Athrun said drolly. "Now, we better get to our own breakfast or we'll starve on that shuttle." He looked at his watch. "The bodyguards will probably be coming in less than five minutes, and if we want some employee-employer bonding idea to work, we have to get the table ready."

"Agreed." Cagalli said with a smile. "You take the pancakes, I'll take the eggs."

As they moved to the dining room with their plates of scrambled eggs and pancakes, Athrun considered all that had changed as to his living with her. There was that undeniable sense of déjà vu whenever the assigned bodyguards who doubled up as chauffeurs reported to the Atha Estate every morning.

Truthfully, it was harrowing and familiar for Athrun. He'd gone through something highly similar as part of his previous working experience. He'd been the one to have to watch from a distance, to be there but somewhat ignored and neglected; to be the one watching helplessly.

But that was different now, Athrun reflected as they joked and laughed while preparing breakfast. Now, he was the one who could stand patiently at the doorway with her every morning and have her looking right back at him. He was the one who could have her adjusting his tie, all because he'd left it crooked on purpose. He was the one who she would go near to and allow him to kiss her before they left the house.

"I swear," She'd remarked on one morning as she adjusted his tie. "I don't understand why you're so meticulous in everything but so bad at doing a tie properly!"

And he'd stood there each time, trying his best to keep from grinning like an idiot, enjoying her closeness even for those few minutes. He was no longer a bodyguard waiting outside or at best, relegated to the background. He was to be the one dropping a kiss on Cagalli's cheek even as she blushed and batted him away every morning after doing his tie. It was a curious turn of play, even considering all the time Athrun had spent away from Orb and this place.

Now, as she reached to her neck, trying to untie her apron, he was glad to be the one who could go over to help her. His fingers deftly found the knot, although he took his time, brushing his hands over her back and waist. He hadn't realised it himself—he'd wanted to savour every moment of being with her.

Grinning, Cagalli clucked her tongue at him, eyes twinkling as she turned slightly to look at him. "Don't get any funny ideas, Mister."

"Oh no," He said smoothly, sliding his hands under the apron with his palms against her. "I am a good, good boy."

She smirked at him and began to say something, but the doorbell rang. Instantly, Cagalli pulled away and hurried to answer it.

Left with an incriminating, frilly apron hanging from his fingers, Athrun likewise scuttled off to deposit it back in the kitchen to prevent being seen by the bodyguards holding a very feminine item.

A few minutes later, their breakfast-guests arrived—leaving just enough time for Athrun to throw off the accursed bunny slippers that squeaked indignantly as they were lobbed unceremoniously under the phone table. Locating his own, he looked up in time to see the four burly men trooping in.

"Good morning, Your Grace." Renton crept in first, followed by Scott. Both were looking a bit apprehensive without their usual shades to block their expressions. In their sleek dark suits, the bodyguards looked incredibly like members of the mafia who'd been warned to pay respects to the Orb Princess and her efforts at getting a breakfast ready for their benefit. Well, for most part anyway. They'd had to leave their shiny leather shoes at the door and don house slippers, and the picture was a little strange as their menacing images were muted.

The bodyguards did come in here on a regular weekly basis to scan the house for bugs and similar devices. But to be invited in here for breakfast—now that was alarming, and Athrun could see panic written all over his face.

"Come along this way," Cagalli chirped, pointing them in Athrun's direction. If she had noticed the bodyguards' social awkwardness, she was clearly ignoring it.

"Hallo." Athrun ushered them in, shooting a smile at Cagalli, who winked at him from behind them.

"Morning, Mr. Zala." The others greeted him, looking slightly apprehensive. Athrun's bodyguards, Nagi and Horitz, looked especially tense. Had they been similarly warned by Cagalli's bodyguards of the likelihood that she was less dainty than she appeared and as stubborn as a bull?

As this morning's breakfast-guests trooped in, looking more than uncertain, Athrun fought back his laughter. Oblivious to the bodyguards' discomfort, Cagalli was hurrying around them enthusiastically, pulling them in and getting them to sit down.

And they took turns to pour coffee and tea, looking slightly unnerved. Frankly, Athrun had to hide his grin behind the rim of his mug. It didn't seem to bother her that she wasn't having tea with dolls at some dainty tea-party but surrounded by five men—four of which were armed.

And she chattered away, asking them about their preferences for sugar and things like that. Smiling, Athrun could see that even his surly bodyguards were warming up to her.

Her own bodyguards of course, were far more familiar with Cagalli Yula Atha.

"The eggs are good." The brown-haired, tanned Renton said to her. He and Scott were arguably the most used to Cagalli, since they had been assigned to her for quite some time.

As a matter of fact, all the men that Athrun and Cagalli had been assigned were from the Orb National Security department. They were apparently very experienced in this job, having spent half their lives being various Orb Nobles' bodyguards, and they all seemed permanently attached to their shades.

Now though, they seemed rather meek and mild in the Orb Princess' presence. Scott said carefully, "Er, if Your Grace wouldn't find it too much of a bother, I'd like the recipe for the pancakes."

"Oh it'll be easy! I'll copy it out for you!" Cagalli beamed at her bodyguard, and Athrun watched his own encouraged bodyguards take bites of their own breakfast.

Without his shades, Horitz looked more like a gentle giant than a menacing boulder, and Nagi looked almost shy with his fuzzy, new-born chick hair. In fact, Nagi was staring bashfully at Cagalli, and Athrun hid a smile.

While Cagalli ran through her schedule with Scott, stopping briefly only to pour him more tea, Athrun felt a tug at his sleeve. The threatening-looking Horitz looked distinctively child-like, even if his overall profile was still a boulder's.

"Mr. Zala," Horitz muttered next to him, "These are way better than I thought."

Athrun shot him a sly look and lowered his voice to a tiny mutter. "Don't let her hear that. Just keep complimenting her." He grinned as Cagalli focused back on them. "Now Horitz, as I was saying, I'll finish work around six-thirty on this coming Monday. The meeting, I've been told, will go on for quite some time. And then, as you know, Cagalli and I will be taking leave from Tuesday for two weeks."

"Yes sir." Horitz mumbled, reverting back into his deadpanned ways.

"The pancakes are really great." Scott announced for the third time, with Renton nodding his agreement. Scott was already shovelling down a plate, and his round face almost shone with happiness. The others agreed heartily, and Cagalli almost blushed. Not that their approval of the breakfast was an exaggeration, of course. Cagalli was rather adept at the simple meals, although Athrun suspected that it had been Aaron Biliensky's gruelling training and constant nagging that had inspired such results.

"Athrun helped with the pancakes," She told them all, a hint of pride in her voice.

But Athrun laughed. "I did the extremely difficult job of beating the mix."

"It's good." Renton told them all. If he had looked anxious about keeping to the schedule of sending his employer and her fiancé to the Orb Nobles' private shuttle at first, he had ceased to look at his watch and was busy devouring the scrambled eggs. His cheeks were fat and stuffed like an obsessed and a slightly paranoid squirrel's own. "Can I have seconds?"

"You can have thirds." Athrun said obligingly. He held out his own plate. "I'll start on my seconds too. When we're done, we can get to the shuttle grounds, and with any luck, we'll be back tomorrow afternoon."

He exchanged a grin with Cagalli.

* * *

In her study, Sheba Velasco sat quietly. She was careful to be as silent as she could while she read the files, for it seemed that the Seventh Eye was likely to wake at any moment. Their conversation had been a terse one; if it had been a conversation at all, and his waking up too soon would be problematic.

"Where is he?" Tom had blabbered. He'd come to her place; taken a boat here despite the risks of the situation that they were all in. She'd been angry at first; outraged that Tom had disregarded the clear instructions that the Numbers had given them to lie low. "I need to contact Rune—no, Athrun Zala. Now."

Opening her door, she'd seen how Tom had been less than composed. He'd come here, hysterical and panicking, and it had taken her more than a slap against his cheek to calm him down. He'd lunged at her after she'd slapped him to be silent, and she'd subdued him with another slap to his cheek.

She hadn't meant to be so hard on him, Sheba reflected. She had been more afraid than upset at his use of a name; afraid that someone would have heard.

He'd screamed at her. He'd never done that before, but he had always been tethering so near the edge that it might have been anyone that he'd snapped in front of.

Better her than Orlick Churchill, she reasoned now. Orlick Churchill would not have tolerated this kind of emotional breakdown. He would not have sympathised with the boy who lay in her bed, sleeping fitfully now. Tom would have been sent off—and with someone like Tom, where was he to go?

What she was doing was in his interests, Sheba decided. But inside her, she knew that Tom would not accept what she had chosen for him. Even before the drowsiness had overcome it, he'd fought to tell her what he'd decided.

"I'm going to find him," He'd slurred, his hand tight on Sheba's even as she dragged him along. "He's the one who began rounding up the criminals first—putting them into the manor in makeshift cells one by one. That's why they're angry—that's why they are afraid and they've taken hostages like that."

"That wasn't him." Sheba had said sharply, as she'd guided Tom to the bed. He'd been dragging his feet, not quite aware that he was getting drowsy. As she had pushed him to the bed, she'd looked coldly at him. "His instructions after his trial in the Plants were to begin closing down the Isle. It wasn't his fault that this is happening. You can't save the hostages, Tom. Leave them be."

"He needs to come back to the Isle." Tom had insisted through his daze. "He needs to tell them that he's the one who's been rounding them up and sending so many of them back to the outside world. Those on the Seventh Isle will listen. They won't try to find out who has all the information about them by killing those around them. "

Trying to fight back her angry tears, Sheba had taken her hand away from Tom's. "He can't do anything anymore, Tom. He's not here. He's resigned—he won't ever come back here. He never wanted to be here Tom, don't you understand?"

He had shaken his head weakly. "If I tell him, he will come back. I don't believe that he really wants to be with the Orb Princess—there's some other ploy that the Numbers aren't telling you or me about. He doesn't really need her. He doesn't. But he'd never let those innocent people be used—killed like this. He wouldn't allow it."

"I'm not sure." Sheba had said in the silence when Tom had fallen asleep. "There are some things worth sacrificing others for."

When Athrun Zala had returned to the Isle after his re-reinstatement as an Eye and even a promotion to the Intelligence council, a few Eyes like Alstarice Krieg and Leopold Wasser had been flabbergasted. Despite the Numbers' statement that he'd been cleared of all charges of insubordination, Alstarice hadn't been able to accept the fact that Athrun Zala had received a promotion. It was ridiculous, he'd declared. To be rewarded for screwing up? Unheard of.

But those like Alstarice were too blinded by their jealousy to see the real mechanics of it, Sheba thought. What the Numbers had done was as good as punishment for Athrun Zala. Back in the Isle as a re-instated Eye, he'd headed a team of half of the Eyes and their aides to review the information of those on the Isle. As the head of that team, it had been his job to decide who to send back to the Plants to face their trials.

Lent and Sheba had no say. Their job was to collect new information and compile the old. The Numbers had been quite specific that the Intelligence Council wanted nobody but Athrun Zala to be in charge of drawing up names of those to be sent away from the Isle.

Throughout it all, Sheba had never been able to speak to Athrun Zala alone. But surely, he must have been aware that some of them had long left their pasts behind and started families. Those families often didn't know what their pasts were really about. They'd been brought up in a bubble, really.

But things had moved efficiently with Athrun Zala at the mast, and plenty of Isle-dwellers had been sent back to the Plants for closed trials before they were even aware that they'd been drugged at their own parties. Some begged their masked guards to let them go—that they'd repented, that they only wanted to be with their families and they'd never done any harm while on the Isle.

Had Athrun Zala thought to protest? And even if he had protested, the Intelligence Council would have written it off as insubordination that they could not excuse and punish him. Sheba for one, knew how they'd punish him. The would have punished him by going after Cagalli Yula Atha and releasing information of her affair with him. That had been their trump to getting him to agree to return to the Isle to work. How was he to insist that he'd acted in insubordination when they had conclusive proof of his relationship with her on the Isle? It wouldn't have damaged him in the least— it would have ruined her. They hadn't needed to convince Athrun Zala much—he'd realised it a long time ago.

For a while, it had kept him working the way they wanted him to—his experience and connections on the Isle were invaluable, and as mistrustful of Athrun Zala as plenty of the Numbers and even the Eyes were, it was counter-productive removing him. Really, they had thought they could control him. And they had been right. At first.

But once Athrun Zala found a way to leak the nature of his relationship with the Orb Princess, the Intelligence Council and the Numbers had no more gambling chip that they could use against him. They'd been enraged. They'd been threatening to release the information—they didn't actually expect to have to or that Athrun Zala would do it for them. Naturally, the official statement from Zaft was that it had been a doctored photograph—that it had been faked. That way, the Intelligence Council's and their intelligencer's actions prior to the Harraldsson incident would not be questioned—nor would the Isle's existence be suspected even as the procedures to shut it down were hastened.

Sheba smiled as she thought of what Athrun Zala had done. He must have known, at some point, that the Intelligence Council had as much to lose as the Orb Princess if the information was released. He'd taken a huge gamble—he'd damaged her in his bid to damage the Intelligence Council, but he'd counted on the Council to cover things up in the end. Had he expected her to understand and accept that? Perhaps not. But she had, from the looks of things, and that was what counted.

The world of course, saw it in far less complicated terms. Those on one side of the field insisted that his presence in Orb was another ploy. Those on the other side insisted that they'd only fallen in love after meeting as the Vice-Chairman of the Intelligence Council and a representative of Orb at one of those events. Everything between—well, there were enough conspiracy theories and secrets that hit closer to home than what most people would have expected or believed.

What Sheba suspected, however, was that Athrun Zala was unlikely to relinquish what he'd held onto for so long. And she looked at the sleeping Tom. Really, she thought, Tom didn't understand much. Athrun Zala's very return to the Isle after the entire fiasco involving Harraldsson had been his last chance to keep it all together—that had been proof of how much he'd wanted to keep his lover safe. Did Tom really expect Athrun Zala to throw that away and return back to the Isle to help solve the unexpected problems?

No. Sheba decided. Athrun Zala would not. She would not blame him for that. Tom ought not to, either.

After that, he'd tendered his resignation a few weeks after the release of evidence of his tryst with the Orb Princess. Nobody had tried to stop him this time. Perhaps, Sheba reflected wryly, Athrun Zala had finally proven that he was really more trouble than he was worth keeping as an Eye.

Besides, the Numbers had been struggling with other things at that time to care less as to their ex-intelligencer's life. The Seventh Isle had gone up in all sorts of problems, what with a few bringing out weapons they'd somehow acquired and attacking whoever who visited their homes. At that time, the Eyes from the other Isles had been called in and they regained control of most part—they rounded up those who had rebelled, even the technically innocent ones who were just ignorant and upset that their loved ones and family were being asked to leave the Isle and punished them.

Had Siegel Clyne ever expected this?

As she read the documents that she'd kept under lock and key, Sheba felt her heart grow heavy. She'd spent years trying to understand as well. The job that she and Frederick Yule had signed up for had promised to pay well enough to support their dreams; at that time, they'd been elites that had wanted excitement and a sort of a last fling before they'd settled down for a normal life. Had she known what he'd end up dying for, she'd have forbade them both from ever taking up the offer made to them.

In the bed, Tom Edgeworth slept fitfully, curled up as a kitten would be but with far less pleasure of slumbering. She could understand his pain. He had come to her, pale and begging to understand what he was really part of. But he knew. He had always known, and he had stayed on for so long anyway. What could Sheba say to console him?

She gazed at the young man sleeping and the way his brow was furrowed even in his sleep. There was that faint, unmistakeable scent of fear and sweat, and his fringe clung to his fair but damp forehead. Would Lent have told Tom? She didn't know. But when he had come to her, nearly in tears and with his hands trembling, she'd done the best that she could. She'd given him tea, watched him get drowsy, brought him to bed, and then sat him in a couch. He needed to calm down, she'd decided then. Explaining things that Sheba didn't even fully understand for herself would have been an exercise in futility.

When he woke, Sheba decided, she'd tell him that he had fallen asleep while he'd been resting. Perhaps, Tom wouldn't question the immediacy of his drowsiness. Perhaps, she hoped, he would forget. Would he ask the same questions once more? Or would Tom understand what Sheba had done immediately and give up?

The documentation of Siegel Clyne's decision had not been done very well. It had been a rushed decision, and the tremendous effort to hide the entire operation had taken the priorities of the planners. Looking at the white paper and some of the reasons as to why Siegel Clyne had decided to go ahead with the Isle, Sheba wasn't sure that his second proposal to have it shut down after the War had ended had been composed of little more than ideals.

As for those who had survived through the wars and were facing the very real prospect of being put back into the real world to face their long-delayed trials, it was understandable that they were reacting vehemently. Most of them were more than upset. Some had tried to bribe people around them, paranoid with fear, suspicious of their neighbours' identities, aware that there had always been a policing on the Isle but unaware of who the Intelligencers were.

Some had done more than that. Some had put up a resistance. They'd taken hostages on the Isle—the innocents, and were threatening to kill them if the Intelligencers did not reveal themselves. Of course, the Numbers had given strict orders for the Eyes never to reveal their identities as the secret police. On the Seventh Isle, some of the more reckless ones had actually carried out their threats after the deadline had passed.

Sheba gazed at the sleeping Tom. So he'd grown-up today, then—he must have watched the innocent hostages being hurt and kicked publicly in the rebellion-leaders' efforts to provoke a reaction from the intelligencers controlling the Seventh Isle. And that wasn't the only place where it was happening—Epstein Cleamont had sent word that on some parts of the Fifth Isle, something similar was happening. He'd given the Eyes the location of those specific places—one included a decrepit church.

Siegel Clyne's plans had been supposed to be about giving the coordinator criminals a fair trial when the world had cooled down from its Coordinator-Natural conflict. But the war had really come, as had a second one, and he'd lost control of the Isle- the people in charge were a council with members that were more than obsessively pro-war. They'd taken funds from those who wanted to stay on the isle forever. Not just to provide for those on it, but a great deal of the 'security funds' had been used it for the then-war efforts. Patrick Zala, for all his disdain for the Isle, had allowed it and had acknowledged it as the best thing to ever come from the Isle's conception.

Did Siegel Clyne know at any point? Had he found evidence of this and had been prepared to release it before his death? Sheba had wondered about this for a long time. Would he have been wilfully blind to it? She wasn't sure. She was afraid to ponder over this for too long. But if she could give him the benefit of doubt that he didn't know, it would certainly make sense as well. At that time, it wouldn't have seemed prudent to hold trials for these war criminals while Junius Seven had been blown up—at that point, there would have been no point making the coordinators even more upset. And if Siegel Clyne had known, well, what could he have done as one of twelve members of a council that even most of the Supreme Council didn't know about?

And now, the Numbers and the Eyes could lose control of whatever Siegel Clyne had lost control of too. Around her, the interrogation would continue. Tom wouldn't be the only Eye to cry out and beg to be allowed to reveal his identity to stop the senseless hurting of others. He wouldn't be the first Eye to feel as if he didn't know who he was anymore.

It certainly wouldn't be the first time that Sybilia Van Housen would find herself wondering if every human conception of a utopia was flawed from the very start.

* * *

In Markio's orphanage, the kitchen seemed a little small for the two who prepared the food for the picnic. But it was cosy, and as they worked, they laughed and caught up with each other. Their voices were bright and merry in the afternoon air, and in the distance, the children's voices seemed to echo their own.

They'd once been here, no longer teenagers but not quite adults in the way that they were now. Once, each girl had looked at the other and found comfort in each other's companionship and within the perimeters of the simple house. That orphanage had seemed to be a home for them at the time—two young women who'd been born privileged and had somehow been cast adrift in a war that stole from everywhere and discriminated against nobody.

While they had worked, heating up things and re-packing for the meal ahead, they spoke of light, happy things. It had seemed in the past that regardless of the world beyond the windows, there was some comfort within the confines of a place that the children entrusted their seniors to keep safe for them. And in a time where Cagalli felt that she could not really ask for more, it was easy to forget that each of them had shed bitter tears in this place and not too long ago.

"I'm not sure that the weather will be as good as he claims," Cagalli said. A little flustered, she smiled, cheeks rosy with excitement as they got the food ready in the orphanage's kitchen. "But I certainly hope so!"

"I hope so too," Lacus told her. She passed a stack of kitchen paper to Cagalli, who took them immediately. "Mont Pellier's a bit laidback, but that's probably part of its charm."

"I'm not sure that Athrun can take that," Cagalli mused. She seasoned the roast, then tested it with a spoon before turning back to Lacus with a grin. "He might get bored."

"With you around?" Lacus teased. "I think not."

And she winked while Cagalli ducked to check something, trying not to colour at the hint of mischief in her friend's voice.

"What will you bring?" Lacus inquired.

"Well, I do think that we don't have to bring as much, unlike what's been suggested by Aaron Biliensky," Cagalli considered, thinking about the planning and packing that she and Athrun would have to do. "It's only two and a half weeks, really. The Elders have offered the option to extend, but I really don't think I want that."

"Why not?" Lacus exclaimed, whirling around and coming to stand next to her. "I thought this was a holiday on your own terms?"

"As much as it can ever be on our terms," Cagalli agreed. "Unlike the honeymoon from the Orb Royals' national budget, this holiday's a private one. That's why the Council hasn't sent a holiday planner over who'll ensure media coverage the taxpayers expect to see for their contributions. But as pleased as I am to be with Athrun and to escape the further madness of planning for the wedding, I think I'll be more worried about the work back home. Extending the holiday's out of the question."

"Of course, since it's you." Lacus laughed. "But you'll have to try to forget about it. Think of those beautiful shores and all the boating you can do!"

"Oh, I may never look at beaches the same way again." Cagalli said with a little shudder. She helped her sister-in-law arrange the food and then fetched a damp cloth to clean the crumbs from the kitchen counter. "One of the photo shoots that Mathilda Surinth put us through was just—," She searched for a word. "I don't know. I never thought that the breezy, islander look would take so many hours of waiting and touching up and planning to achieve."

"Oh, but I'm eager to see the photographs," Lacus chirped. "Like all of Orb and most of the world, I suspect." Her smile grew broader. "The designer's identity is a secret, isn't it?"

"If you want, I can tell you." Cagalli offered, washing the rag by this time now. "If I can remember. He was personally there when I was fitted—I felt very nervous standing around with him screaming all sorts of instructions about the stitches and the length of the veil. Really," She shook her head. "I was wondering how you always tolerate these things."

"I do get a little impatient at times," Lacus admitted, looking somewhat sheepish. "I always have to remind myself that I'm in the hands of professionals and that they are proud of what they do—that if they must take two hours to curl one's hair, I must sit still and be co-operative to make life easier for them."

"Oh, I admire how magnanimous you are," Cagalli said with a sigh. She bustled around, pulling out trays of cookies for inspection now. "The first three days of the honeymoon will include authorised cameras and a crew to collect official photographs. Really, I'm not sure anyone cares what we do on the honeymoon."

"I'm not so sure about that." Lacus pointed out. "Kira was treated like a celebrity even in the most remote towns that we visited in the Alliance-Asian region."

"Thanks to you being such a star," Cagalli laughed. "I'm willing to bet my money that your songs are listened to even there—even now."

"Well, if that's the case where we're treated like royalty, what more then, for the Orb Princess?" Lacus grinned. "I must say that Mathilda Surinth has done her work well in the planning—it seems that you'll get your peace and quiet and she'll get the right kind of publicity that she's been hired to ensure."

And Cagalli began to retort something, but she was interrupted by an airborne haro that she caught just in time. As Lacus began to say something, another haro flew in, and Leon skidded into the kitchen, followed by at least five other children. "Ma! Aunt! Is it done?"

"The waves are receding—we could go now!"

"I'll help hold the basket!" Another child cried. He looked around at amazement at the food available. "Or baskets!"

Noisily, they crowded around the two women, talking in high voices and looking hungrily at the food. Their chatter made Cagalli laugh, and she felt the youngest cling to her leg lovingly—Quea was Leon's age and she had lovely red hair and expressive brown eyes that reminded Cagalli intensely of Meyrin. Bending down to hug her, Cagalli felt the girl bounce on the spot with delight.

"Almost ready now," Lacus assured them, the only calm presence in the too-crowded kitchen. "And where's everybody else?"

"The rest are with Father Markio or with Pa." Leon chirped, holding up the haro. "And Godpa's mending Mr. Blue!"

"Not Godpa," Lacus reminded her son. Liberally, she passed a plate of cookies around as cheers broke out. "You're to call him Uncle now."

"No way!" Yuuta broke in before Leon could respond. "You get to call him Uncle? That's so lucky!" He looked enviously at Leon. "Did you know that he can pilot those big machines?"

"Like my Pa?" Leon inquired.

"Yes!" Maki said eagerly. She clapped her hands as she remembered. "You weren't around then, but one night, he opened the garage with Pinkie's key and—," She looked at Lacus, eyes wide. "It was a cold night, and I was all sleepy when I got out of bed. But we saw Kira take off at the coast—like a shooting star! I couldn't believe how fast he was!"

"Is Godpa as fast?" Leon asked Cagalli, and then remembered. "Oh—I mean, Uncle."

"Oh that can wait," Cagalli grinned. "There's a wedding to go through first." She pinched the boy's cheek lightly, then smiled at the other children. "We'll be depending on all of you to be there. You too, Leon, to carry the ring."

While Mathilda Surinth had insisted that they include some young Orb Noble children as bridesmaids, Cagalli had insisted that the orphanage children would be more than guests.

The girls began chattering excitedly about the dresses that they'd wear as flower girls, and the boys boasted of how they'd look in their Sunday best. Most of them had never been to a wedding, and tiny Sarra flung herself into Cagalli's arms and hugged her in her excitement. Surrounded by laughing and happy children, Cagalli felt a swell of emotion and made a mental note to thank Athrun for having included every child's name on the guest list.

"I'll pay for them personally," He'd told Mathilda Surinth, when she'd initially protested at the length of their list and the 'taxpayers' concerns'. "I want all of them to be there, so see to it. Every name must be on an individual invitation."

Looking at some of the children who brought their beautifully embossed cards with them wherever they went in the house, Cagalli had to smile. By the time Athrun had been making such demands, Mathilda Surinth had been as obedient as someone of her character could be. Perhaps it was Athrun's deliberate attempt to charm her, but there was that quality about Athrun that Cagalli had long recognised—when he asked for something, he was rarely refused. One just could not quite refuse him.

"We'll see to it." Mathilda Surinth had assured them. "If my team has to go to the orphanage directly to get those invitations, we will." She had looked meaningfully at them both. "We'll get the cameras to focus on the children too. The publicity will be very, very favourable if the viewers see that the guests include the underprivileged."

Cagalli had been shocked, but Athrun had tugged on her arm and thanked Mathilda before she could get a word in. In some ways though, she understood why Athrun had let Mathilda think of it as a publicity stunt. Why not, when it would get the children to be present? And why not, if it served the purpose of having those who mattered attend? While she hadn't been able to accept the falsity of Mathilda Surinth's plans, Cagalli had accepted Athrun's point of view.

That was the thing about having Athrun with her, Cagalli reflected. His calmness and the way he could see beyond the present had been traits that she'd envied for a long time. But now, his presence seemed to provide and enforce what she needed in her life.

It wasn't so much the sense of freedom and reckless passion that she'd sensed and wanted when she'd been on the Isle with him. It was more than that, really. His presence was always filled with a quiet confidence and with it came the steadiness that she'd wanted without knowing it.

As they moved out of the house, each child carrying either spade and pails or the food in baskets, the men moved out from the garage shed to join them.

Markio was talking animatedly to Athrun and Kira, but Athrun caught her eye and smiled, taking her hand as she and Lacus went over. And as the children crowded around them, pulling them along, Cagalli looked at them and wondered when they had all left that kind of childhood behind.

Later, while the children played by the coast and the adults sat on the rocks and looked out for them, Lacus took Cagalli's hand warmly into her own.

"When will we see a little one join them all?" Lacus said gently. Her eyes moved to the sea-lily behind Cagalli's ear—picked by Jacquie. But Athrun had been the one to weave it into her hair, and Lacus must have seen the way his fingertips had lingered on her earlobe and cheek.

Cagalli flushed a little, glancing sideways to Athrun. Currently engaged in conversation with Kira on the other side of the rocks, Athrun didn't seem to have heard, and she smiled back at Lacus a little embarrassedly.

"I've wanted a child for some time," Cagalli admitted. "As Athrun has. But we don't know how if it's right to have one while so many around us aren't approving of us." She looked down, biting her lips a little and touching the sea-lily as if to make sure it was still there. "The guest-list goes into the hundreds, but of those, I'm not sure how many will truly bless our marriage."

"Well," Lacus considered, "It's already a kind of selfishness to want to bring a child into a world that's so inconsistent and so flawed." She looked smiling at the children and her own son as they laughed and splashed in the water. "Look at them—my own father once told me that every newborn cries because it already knows what kind of world it has been brought into."

She looked back at Cagalli wistfully. "But then he always insisted that every child has a right to try and be happy in a world that's so imperfect. I believe him."

Beyond them, the children splashed and shouted, bright with their colours against the water. The wind grew louder in their ears and the kites flown soared higher above the sea. One of the boys shouted to Kira and Athrun, and the men responded by kicking off their shoes and rolling up their pants to their knees to join the children in the water.

Watching them, Lacus grew very still. Gazing at a woman who was as good as her sister, Cagalli knew what she was thinking about. Surely, the youth who'd cried his bitter tears against her had found his happiness, even if it was a simple one. His son ran by his side as they reeled out a red kite, and they linked hands with the other children, indivisible.

Laughing with them, Athrun—her Athrun— seemed to have been stripped of the heavy weights that he'd worn for so long that they'd become part of his demeanour and his cold, courteous ways. Balancing a cheering boy on his back in the game that they were playing, he stood in the water, lifting the child higher and higher while the others tried to jump and to touch a leg or shoe.

And it seemed to Cagalli that the world might have collapsed around them but that this little place would remain timeless in its simplicity. There were the cliffs that would recede with the waves' constant rhythms and the beaches that would stretch further into the distance, but she looked at those before her and felt that nothing could ever change the way they belonged here.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I own nothing of GS/GSD. R&R please.**

* * *

Chapter 7

* * *

The latest trial had ended. It was not open for the public in the Plants to attend and nobody but the judges, legal clerks and the state lawyers involved heard the frantic pleas of Nina Rochestor as she received the final words of her sentence. She was not the first to have been taken forcibly from the Isle and to face a long overdue sentencing in the Plants, but it was nothing short of irony that her first glimpse of the Plants would be her last as a free person.

On one end of the wall, several screens gleamed silver and blue. The accused however, was and would remain unaware of the Numbers. It would be that way, from the time that she had entered the Isle and until the end of her life.

"You held a conditional state identity from the Plants as an asylum-seeker on the Isle." One judge intoned. "On that basis, the Plants have jurisdiction and can choose to expatriate you to the Earth Alliance territory were you were accused of crimes nearly seventeen years ago. On other grounds, you were assured security if you were to keep with the conditions that you agreed to upon entry. You understood that when the war was over, you would be put on fair trial for crimes that you were accused of in Jamaica and other Earth Alliance territories."

"Yes, but I contest my sentence on the grounds of insubstantial evidence!" Rochestor hissed, not even caring that the state defense had risen to his feet to wave aside her words. "The charge against me then was false; I was set up simply because I am a Coordinator! Even now, the evidence adduced is too incomplete for anybody to reasonably say that I engaged in corruption and poor business practices!"

The judges looked down upon the latest accused in the recent spate of cases sent from the Isle. All three of them had a duty to the State to remain silent about the details of the Isle and the policies behind it, but it had chilled all three of them to learn of its existence from the Intelligence Council's key personnel.

"Nonetheless," One said, "You have been proven to have flouted the agreement underlying your conditional citizenship with Plant."

"I haven't done anything wrong compared to the others!" She cried, unheeding to the warning looks that the guards on duty threw her. "Let me go back to the Isle!"

In the haze of her old habits and the unfettered excess of the years on the Isle, she had yet to accept that Plant intended for the Isle to end. She began to struggle, pushing her weight against the stand and bellowing her denial.

"Silence!" One of the judges thundered. "Your crimes on Earth Alliance territory would have been followed by sentences, but for your successful petition and place on the Isle. As agreed in the conditions of the document that you signed upon your entry and the subsequent asylum, you were not to engage in businesses beyond the Isle. As set out previously, you are sentenced for life and face the following fines in addition."

"No!" Rochestor was screaming now. "That's unfair— I was misled into doing business with Rune Estragon! Rune Estragon— you know who he is, don't you? He lives on the Isle too— he's the one who tempted me into restarting my companies beyond the Isle— he made me manufacture those weapons and trade!" She shook her hands furiously, although those had been chained from the hour that she had been taken from her place on the Isle and sent here in a shuttle. "I know where the location of the Isle is— I'll spill it out if you don't release me now!"

Already, the judges were giving the bailiff the signal to take her away.

"At least, take Estragon into custody too!" She was howling even as she was dragged out. "The others too! He and Lyra Delphius!"

Behind his screen, Yzak Joule shook his head and got up to leave.

* * *

The knock on the door made Cagalli look up from the work that she'd been pouring through.

Aaron sidled in, doing a fiery series of salsa step as he dangled the packed lunches from his fingers.

"Well, someone's been taking his dance classes seriously."

He closed the door, sashaying back and forth even as he grinned and deposited the lunch on the coffee table in the centre of her office.

"It helps when you have a dance instructor like mine." He twirled an imaginary moustache and puckered his lips. "That Latino at the studio and the tight pants—it's a beautiful combination. I would introduce you, really, I would, except that you're wearing that on your finger."

"Yeah?" Cagalli laughed, raising her hand for the ring to catch the light, admiring it again as he did. "Is that all?"

"That," Aaron nodded. "And also because I saw him first."

"And that's the real point," Cagalli teased, standing up and pushing back her chair to go and join him. She grabbed a bookmark and stuck it in the file, prepared to close it and to have her lunch. "They did say it took two to tango."

"Oh I'm sure that you'd know," Aaron said slyly, easing himself gracefully into the visitor's sofa now. "So why were you late for work on a Monday morning?"

"It was only ten minutes!" She protested, shamefaced nonetheless. She'd driven to work in a hurry herself, having insisted that she did not want the bodyguards to fetch her today. Had they fetched her, Cagalli would not have been able to insist that they speed and beat a few traffic lights and she would have arrived far later than by the ten minutes. Guiltily, she tried to rearrange the files on her table.

"You always came in an hour early," Aaron pointed out. "Then again, that was before Mr. Zala turned up in Orb and you began coming to work on time like the normal person. And then today, you came ten minutes late. Can I infer that as progress in the relationship?"

Coughing embarrassedly, Cagalli lowered her head, trying to hide from Aaron's scrutiny. She shuffled her files, looking through some random document that she'd already finished approving. "I don't know what you're talking about! It was a busy weekend at the orphanage and we were trying to pack for the upcoming trip like the Elders wanted. We were also discussing some things about Athrun's work. That's why we woke up late."

It was true that his work was getting a little complicated, thanks to the proposals that Tristernte set up a subsidiary to expand into Plant's biochemical industry. He hadn't been the one to propose it, but for sure, plenty of the directors and even the management were keeping their eyes on him.

Ever since he'd resigned from the Plant Intelligence Council and taken his shares of the Zala businesses' trust, he'd used those to acquire other shares in Orb's leading research corporation. But the management rights that those accorded him were problematic, precisely because Tristernte was a key Orb corporation that plenty of other industries depended on.

So far, Cagalli thought with a sigh, those plans for Tristernte to expand its markets to the Plants were in the proposal stage and there wasn't really much for Athrun to comment on or vote on.

Nonetheless, the proposal itself was filled with thorny issues. As part of Tristernte's board and a majority shareholder, he was expected to make decisions that would enable the businesses to expand. For now, he only had to vote in interest of what seemed like the best proposal in light of the corporation's best interests. That didn't sound difficult, but it certainly was with how in-depth the analysis got. The Tristernte conglomeration was essential in Orb's biochemical technology business and also subsidised by the Orb government. Because Athrun had become a major shareholder by virtue of buying into the company's shares, he was afforded some managing rights. He was aware what a risk this was—those against him would look to him if the Tristernte dividends were affected.

Thanks to Rohm's visit and Athrun's agreement to the Elders' requests, the proposal would soon to become even less easy to handle. If the proposal came up in the meetings while Athrun was away, he was quite sure that merely nominating a stand-in director wouldn't be the best way to handle the board and the media's expectations of him.

Personally, Cagalli couldn't put her finger on what the Council of Elders truly intended from imposing a break on the two of them. Perhaps there had been plenty of press coverage on Tristernte's fiscal year and its proposals for the year ahead and the Council of Elders wanted to prevent any controversy from Athrun's decision. His absence and thereby the neutrality of his decision as the proposal got fleshed out would be the best way to avoid any criticism of his relationship with Cagalli. That said, he probably wouldn't have had to make any at all before the wedding, since the proposal was fairly long-drawn.

Meanwhile, Aaron had watched her unblinkingly. He continued smirking as she settled herself in the sofa adjacent to his and busied herself with opening the packed lunch.

"Oh, I believe you." Aaron said primly. He opened up his own lunch daintily. "I believe that you woke up late despite having both an alarm clock and a compulsively-punctual fiancé_ and_ bodyguards to wake you up on time."

She insisted through a mouthful of vermicelli, "But it's true! We were really busy discussing things and we overslept in the end!"

"I'll bet." He grinned. "It's just that I'm wondering what those marks on your neck are."

"Aaron!" She tried to shush him, her face flushing in colour. She prayed to Haumea that there would be no reasons for the security guards to go through the tapes that month.

"What?" He grinned cheekily. "This office is sound-proofed, darling and you have checks once every two days by security to ensure that it's not been bugged!"

"Actually, you should have heard us yesterday," Cagalli laughed. "I almost wish that you and the Council of Elders had eavesdropped on all the plans that Athrun and I were discussing— maybe it would be easier then."

"Yeah, I suppose they still think that he's planning to takeover some vital industry in Orb." Aaron rolled his eyes, forgetting to tease her and insist that she and Athrun had been doing anything but office work. "Maybe they don't believe that he actually wants to be here for you."

It was likely that the Council of Elders hadn't realised that business wasn't something that Athrun was particularly interested in. Beyond the fact that he'd been working in some isolated, top-secret place, Cagalli personally felt that it was quite telling that the Zala investments and businesses had been in trust for almost as long as Patrick Zala had deceased. But the Council of Elders clearly didn't see that as indicative of Athrun's real intent, and as a result, they were both was getting an extended holiday.

Not a bad deal, Cagalli thought dryly.

But the truth of the matter regarding his foray into the Tristernte corporation was that he'd needed a route into Orb that didn't involve Plant or Zaft. Of course, that wasn't the Council's fault for not knowing it. They didn't know that he'd been used to doing business with Kitani Harumi doing most of the steering, and frankly, the style of steering in the context of the businesses that Harumi had helped him run definitely wasn't dependent on any corporation and securities laws. While Athrun had his other plans to stick with this job for a while, he certainly wasn't keen to go on with it indefinitely.

"So after your discussion," Aaron was fishing around again, thus interrupting her thoughts. "Was there anything exciting that made you wake up late today?"

She took up her lunch once more and stabbing a bit of meat. A laugh was threatening to erupt. "For goodness' sake, Aaron, we mostly sit in bed, reading."

This was often true, thanks to either work or Lacus' book recommendations. Clearly though, Aaron wasn't convinced.

"Oh, reading." He repeated. "I see." He pushed up his glasses, putting aside his chopsticks very elegantly. "I can imagine what you'll tell me after you both come back from that trip that the Elders wanted." His smile grew wider as he crossed and re-crossed his legs elegantly. "You'll be looking at me and telling me that you spent all our time _reading_.

Cagalli laughed now, unable to prevent it. "At this point, I'm afraid to ask what else you're imagining."

"Nothing that's not family friendly," Aaron fired back blithely. He put up a hand, looking at his five fingers. "Maybe we need another thumb." He stuck up another finger. "That's my bet. Family friendly, alright."

And Cagalli laughed helplessly, almost choking on her lunch. "Oh Aaron, we haven't even gone through the wedding yet!" She sobered a little. "Also, the Council of Elders would give me hell if we ever had a wedding that allowed tongues to wag and suggest that it was a wedding of necessity and wedlock."

"Oh they really aren't up to date with a modern society, are they?" Aaron sighed. "That's why they think that they can order both of you to leave the country for this period."

"Well, actually—," She leaned back, thinking about how Ernest Rohm had basically waltzed into Athrun's office and conveyed the Council of Elders' demands. "It's not all that bad."

Now that he'd gotten his route and the marriage would take place in less than a month, Athrun would acquire an Orb citizenship soon. For now, he was on a long-term stay in Orb because of his work, but that would change soon. Once he had a right to stay permanently, he would find a buyer of his shares and leave it at that. Perhaps, Harumi already had something in mind, as Athrun had mentioned.

"Maybe the Elders are doing the best thing here." Without knowing why, Cagalli found herself defending the Council of Elders. "They're right in saying that the public depends on them for setting a standard of conduct for the Orb Nobles that's above what most of the society would accept from the average person."

Aaron shrugged. "That may be so, but that's a really convenient excuse for whatever that they've been putting you and Athrun through too."

"Yeah well," Cagalli mused, "So long as they keep out of Athrun's life, I don't really mind if they try to manage mine. It's just one of those things."

"And he's alright with that?" Aaron questioned.

"I suppose." She said, not even so sure. "We just need to stay together. Things will work out and we'll just grow into it with the passing days."

But some part of him could never settle down, Cagalli had realised. Some part of him actually missed being in that cramped space, manoeuvring the gigantic mobile weapon, cutting through air and being lifted into dizzying heights. He'd already sacrificed his eyesight for hours of practice as a soldier, resulting in his need for reading-glasses to correct his long-sightedness.

There were moments when he would stare into space, moments when he would begin to walk fast and stride despite the pace that they'd strolled at just seconds ago. As horribly ironic as his next job choice seemed, the offer from a Plant-affiliated university in Orb to lecture on war history was right up his alley and experience as an instructor. When he'd mentioned it to her and they'd laughed over how he was technically _the_ war history and didn't have to teach it, they'd both known why they had even started joking about it.

Perhaps, Cagalli thought painfully, the young Lord Lyadov was right in some sense. Those who'd grown up during the war and who'd never been able to get out of industries and social circles thereafter were doomed to stay where they were or face the reality that they didn't fit in anywhere else in society. But Athrun was trying— as hard as Kira, if not harder. Surely that counted for something?

She poked at her food. "I guess it's their job to meddle and I've already become used to it."

"Yes," Aaron shot back directly, "But I'm not sure you should tolerate it."

She smiled reluctantly, thinking of Athrun's silence and the unspoken tension as his bodyguards accompanied him out each morning. "Give and take—what does it matter?"

* * *

The girl in her hammock had been lying in it for hours. It had taken some coaxing, some pleading and a great deal of anxiety before anyone had called for Epstein. And even then, his presence here at the Fourth Isle did not seem to be registered by a girl who'd once been inseparable from her sister and begged him for piggy-rides.

She seemed to have grown up in his absence. Granted, nobody really knew her age, but she had the unmistakeable gaze of an adult now. That gaze was focused on the low ceiling—one with an intent and a weariness that spoke of everything and nothing.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Epstein said again.

She continued swinging, not heeding him or his question at all. She'd built it from ropes that she'd once trained with—looped and knotted and lassoed for hours until those were too soft to be of any real impact but strong enough to be woven like this.

There had always been that dangerous edge in her. He'd recognised that as they key difference in her personality, no matter how easy it was to mistake her character and ways to be identical to her sister's.

Nobody had been sure which twin was the elder and the younger. The twins themselves couldn't decide and it had seemed pointless when they considered themselves halves of a whole. But there was that maturity that Laplacia hadn't quite had until more recently, and even then, Laplacia had always seemed younger; fresher—more trusting.

"I didn't ask you to be here."

"You didn't have to. Jin Yellenov called me here."

His voice, quiet in the already smallish quarters, was no cause for her to look at him. She continued to stare at the ceiling, her hands folded as the hammock suspended her from the ceiling, and it was impossible for him to see her full expression. "He was worried about you cooping yourself up like this and refusing your meals."

As he took one step closer, Epstein found himself hesitating. Her silence told him about everything he needed to know. Of course he would know. He'd met her and her twin as a young adult, staring at the wards that his own guardian had brought back? He would understand her now, when he'd understood their fear and helplessness even then.

"You must take care of them. You will work with them from now on. They'll be aides like you—my aides."

He'd been told that. He'd resented it a little at first—he'd always been rather jealous of anyone who competed for attention from Athrun, a man whom he thought of to be the equivalent of his elder brother or even father. The pale-haired girls had been curled in a corner when he'd first met them, one huddling in fear and the other with wide eyes and bared teeth. They had seemed to be animals to him. He had glanced at them, apprehensive and repulsed.

The girls had been on shuttles and boats for days, jammed with others and crammed back to back. They'd seen enough to know danger and to fear the people who came near them—the journey had been long and people were unlikely to have been kind where supplies where limited. One must have gotten in the way at some point—there were bruises on her cheek. That was the same one that bared her teeth and flew at Epstein, scratching and biting when he went near to offer them food. The other had sobbed silently, cowering and weak from fever.

But that had changed. Slowly, eventually, it did. Very few people would have extracted human, vulnerable qualities from a pair of siblings who belonged to no place in the world. But Rune Estragon, for all his apparent coldness and deliberate distance, had. And as Athrun had insisted once, so had Epstein Cleamont. He was the person whom they truly trusted. Just as Epstein had pledged all his loyalty to Athrun Zala and even the persona that he assumed on the Isle, the twins had eventually vested all their trust in a man they saw as part of their family.

Epstein wasn't so sure about that anymore.

"I suppose you'll never trust me to make promises ever again," Epstein admitted in a low voice, "Since I couldn't keep you both safe the way that he asked me to."

This time, she looked at him. Her eyes, for all that swirl of colours, seemed dull. "So long as Laplacia doesn't return to an Isle that's become what it is, you'll be doing me more than a favour and keeping your promise to Mr. Estragon. Even if she's a pilot, it's better than coming back here."

"It's a matter of time before those in charge realised the switcheroo you did with her test results," He said firmly. "I could always step in and say it was a matter of administrative negligence. But you won't be able to stay here in her place indefinitely, Cartesia. You know that."

"I won't go from this Isle." She sat up. Her unbound hair tumbled over her shoulders. Usually looped at the side, the paleness of her hair matched the white of her face and her gritted teeth. She looked wild; angry and desperate. Her gloves were somewhere on the floor, and the loose shift that she wore made her seem like a displaced, unsettled sea-ghost. "She'd never be able to stand this place. She doesn't understand it the way I do—the way that I have to now."

He shook his head. "Laplacia's competent, but Zaft wanted the pilot who had the better results. They think it's her for now, but these things will be discovered in time. They'll discover that she has a real handicap with her arm. She'll be sent here eventually and you'll be put back into the position that you were supposed to be in. If you're discovered as the cause of the switch and mix-up, you'll be punished."

And Epstein watched her eyes dilate and darken.

She bared her teeth. "Don't you dare let anyone know."

He took another step nearer to the still hammock. "I don't have to, Cathy. It will happen on its own."

Her voice shook when she answered. "But you promised!"

"I tried my best." He said tightly. "I don't know if it's enough."

She leapt out from her hammock and distracted, he watched as it swung uncontrollably in the air. But she was still—frozen in her stance, outrage on her face. "You said that you'd look after her!"

"I did." He admitted. He took a step closer, studying the girl. "I'm trying. I never told her about the switch that I made on your behalf. She worries every day about you—she misses you. She asked me to let her come back to visit you, although that's impossible."

"I'm glad that it is." Cartesia spat. "I never knew what the Isle truly was. But I thank the Fourth Eye for showing me. He will never be as kind as Athrun Zala was, but at least Alstarice Krieg is honest. This is the real world, isn't it? This is where nobody can sugar-coat the stories and tell us that we're doing something good for the better of a world back there on the Plants. Those were just lies— that's why Rune Estragon never let me or Laplacia see what was truly beyond the mansion and those cliffs of the Fifth Isle. I knew there were other Isles beyond there, but I didn't even know what the Isle I was on contained—let alone the others. Now I know. It was a hellhole in the first place and it's become a fortress—I won't allow her to come back." She stepped forward, her eyes unblinking on Epstein's. "I won't allow you to let her come back either."

"As far as possible, I won't allow that." He told her honestly. "But your twin will be heartbroken, Cartesia. You can't keep it from her forever. She's so excited about what she's currently doing and yet she beats herself up inside every day. She's guilty for what she thinks was a better score—she told me that she'd wished for the both of you to have the same scores, just so that they would take both of you. She's so full of hope that way, Cartesia."

Cartesia watched him, narrowing her eyes. "She's naïve. But that's why you have to protect her."

She turned back to the hammock, her hair slashing fast and white across her cheeks.

His breath hitched and he felt his fists clench. "Cartesia, you're just as important to me and Mr. Estragon as Laplacia is. That's why I came here."

"I'm fine." She said stubbornly. "I understand the function of the Isles. I understand my role in it. I understand yours and Mr. Estragon's."

"Yes," Epstein said slowly. "But have you accepted it?"

Unable to see her expression, Epstein wondered if he had done the right thing and acceded to her request.

But when he reached out to touch her shoulder as he had done so many times in the past, she pulled away.

Stung, he stared as she climbed back into her hammock and began to swing once more.

* * *

A few isles away, Sheba wondered if she had done something wrong. The world around her had never seemed so quiet and so clear, but she knew that it was a mess and she contemplated her actions with more than a tinge of regret. Without really thinking about it, she began to reach past the tea and to a lighter that she'd picked up from somewhere.

"I didn't know that you smoked." Lent commented.

Realising that he was awake and turning to him, Sheba began to put away the lighter. "I started a few days ago."

"When Tom came here?"

"Yes." She found no reason to avoid that topic. It was difficult admitting that one of the Eyes had proven to be so affected by the recent turn of events that he had suffered some form of breakdown.

"Alstarice shouldn't have said what he did," Sheba said bitterly. "He told Tom that once the Isle was shut down, Tom would have to go back to the real world too. He told Tom that back in the Plants, Tom would be a freak."

The boy had laughed at first, trying to push the words away and trying to remain calm. But the increased provocation had gone to his head and he had attacked Alstarice, his aide also losing the control that had used to be present whenever Tom had been around. It had been an awful sight, she recalled, one Eye attacking the other and a dog the size of a bear nearly tearing the flesh off Alstarice's aide when the latter had tried to break up the fight.

Lent blinked once. "Alstarice likes to joke."

"It's true though." Sheba muttered. "About Tom being a freak back there. That's why Tom reacted the way that he did."

"What would you have the Intelligence Council do?" Lent questioned. "Settle Tom back into Zaft like he had never left and came here? Or for that matter, ask all of us to go back to the normal jobs that we'd had before this?"

"I don't know." She said. She looked at the lighter, flicking it once.

"Already addicted?" He asked, watching her closely. Without his glasses, he seemed to be younger. He was not really handsome to begin with, but there was something youthful and good— something true and open about his ways.

It was frightening, she realized. It had taken so long for her to accept that he had been waiting— so long for her to be honest about seeing him as he was, ready and willing to wait for as long as she needed to go to him. And even then, their hours together had been another way to waste the precious time that should have been spent on studying the Isle and its current events. She should not have felt so utterly at ease with him or recognized how natural it was to just give in, as if the years had never come and gone and they had never spent all these years avoiding anything.

She continued sitting up, gathering the sheets around her and avoiding his gaze. "I'm not. I was just waiting for you to wake up. We should get back to dividing those files on the Fourth Isle. What do you think of Orlick's idea? Should we bar the ferries moving between Isles?"

"I'm for it." He agreed. "That way, lesser news will spread between the Isles when we start sending larger shipments of people back to the Plants. I'm just worried that if we prevent the ferries from carrying people between Isles, those near to the coasts would realize that something was up and spread the word anyway."

"Better that than to allow information to travel between Isles," Sheba told him.

He stretched a little, peering tiredly at the bedside clock. "True."

"And what about Cartesia Daemon?" Sheba questioned. "Do you think that she's unstable?"

"Not really, no." Lent considered this, folding his arms behind his head and looking up at the ceiling for some time. "I think she's safe enough. But Tom is another case. His aide should be discharged as soon as possible— she's hopeless."

Lucretzia Nombre had been unstable from the start, but with the new wave of panic on the Eighth Isle and the way that the dwellers there had begun to accuse each other of being Plant spies, her fragile nature was becoming far too clear for the Eyes' good.

"You're right," Sheba said. "She almost blurted out Tom's name in the presence of the Isle-dwellers. She needs to go. I'll start on the papers and the application for her to go back to the Plants." She shook her head. "Maybe she needs more attention than we thought."

He studied her. "We can work on those tomorrow."

She turned away, not willing to settle back. Unconsciously, she began to reach for the cigarette, but he put his arm over her, pulling her to him and then taking it away from her.

"Don't get started on those," He reminded her gently. "Orlick can't get through a day without his fags—you'd best avoid them completely.

She looked at him wordlessly, not sure if he was trying to say something else. "Lent, I should say this again—,"

"I know." He interrupted. He smiled softly, but she saw the hurt anyway. "It's just for today."

She found that she couldn't hold his gaze.

He began to bring her close once more. "I know."

* * *

It wasn't just Mathilda Surinth and her personal assistant this time—the assembly of wedding planners had occupied every chair in the living room. Naturally, even all the antique chairs and the additions of the arguably more modern sofas could not accommodate that many people. Alongside the usual furniture were the chairs that Athrun had personally shifted from the dining room because he insisted that nobody be left standing.

Of course, less than half of the planning team was present today.

Athrun had personally brought out the trays of coffee and tea. But as grateful and somewhat surprised as plenty of them were, none of them seemed to really want the beverages. Plenty of them sat tightly, clutching their mugs and not taking a single sip.

They were all watching the Orb Princess.

Cagalli had been flipping through very wordlessly. At points, she had drawn in breaths sharply and it seemed that all the wedding planners' air supply was somehow linked to hers.

As she flipped through the final pages, she paused and shifted her hand occasionally. He had already seen the rather choreographed and overtly composed shot of her in an armchair with himself standing by her side, but it seemed that she was unconsciously seeking his approval even when there was no opportunity for her to voice this before the planning team today.

Frankly, Athrun couldn't care less about the photographs. If being next to her meant that he had to look almost like the bodyguard that he had been when he'd first entered Orb, then the only word that he would utter was 'Amen'. While he understood the impact that those photographs would have on the public, he was keener on trying to be as normal as possible. And while he understood precisely why the designers had been careful to introduce allusions to the Orb military for his formal white suit, Athrun was more concerned about other things than the cut of the collar and the supportive, less dominant posture that he'd been directed to take on in the photographs.

Instead of obeying Mathilda's instructions to go over some planning details, they'd stayed up for all Sunday night, taking turns to read a novel that Lacus had sent to her. Surely, Athrun had remarked, if Lacus had insisted on sending it to her while knowing of the lengthy procedures of security, it warranted a thorough reading.

On the other hand, he could fully appreciate the images of his wife-to-be. One of the dresses was reminiscent of the rather recognisable seafoam piece, except that the designers and stylists in charge had skilfully tweaked the original design to include a more fitted bodice in replacement of a less billowy skirt and an astounding gradient of shimmering shades.

As Cagalli's eyes flitted to his, a question lingering in those, he smiled and nodded slightly at her. He had thought that it was obvious that she had long obtained his approval and everything that he had to offer.

In the meantime, there was more to handle.

"That picture is the proposed official picture that the press will receive," Mathilda Surinth said. Her composure seemed to become a strained, slightly artificial version of her usual self and Athrun detected a tiny tremor in her voice.

Looking at the orchestrated effort, Athrun was reminded that the essence of these procedures wasn't about the memories as much as a balancing act for the public's sake. For most part, the pictures and the way that they'd been painstakingly developed certainly told him so.

"It looks appropriate." Athrun told Mathilda and she nodded a little tensely, her eyes still trained on the silent Cagalli. Clearly, he noted wryly, his opinion wasn't as important as Cagalli's.

Heavy and embossed beautifully with leather, the photographs were bound and ready. . As he'd looked at the photographs, he'd decided that for all his apathy, the compilation had been rather well done.

Perhaps, however, the rightful adulation the effort deserved had been muted by his recollection of the tedious planning and the procedures that involved secrecy, high-level security, cameras, a roped-off beach and cliffs. The clothes that had required twenty people looking after those, as well as heavy make-up, at least six photographers, two directors, and a very, very long veil.

It seemed that the entire room was holding its breath. Naturally, Mathilda Surinth and all those present were sitting on the edges of their chairs.

"I think it's wonderful." Cagalli said softly.

And there was an collective audible sigh. Some began to clap, and relieved smiles seemed to break the last of the tension away. Had Cagalli disliked the end results, Mathilda Surinth and her team would have surely been devastated.

Recently, Athrun reflected, Cagalli had definitely been a little distracted. Perhaps the holiday would do them all some good.

She looked around, still a little dazed as she glanced up and then looked around the room as if noticing for the first time that there were more than ten people in it. She smiled shyly, a child suddenly. "I guess all that effort did pay off."

In her crisp, tailored suit, Mathilda was the picture of professional competence, except that he felt her hand tremble when she reached across the coffee table to shake his offered hand.

"I am overjoyed then, Mr. Zala and Your Grace," Mathilda told them. For a moment, she paused and then she shook her head once, easing back into her bulldog-persona. "But there is more to come ahead."

She snapped once, and an assistant moved forward with her organiser. "The rehearsal at the chapel will have to be done the day you return from the rather spontaneous holiday that has come up—,"

Inwardly, Athrun wondered how she managed to make their upcoming holiday sound like an obstacle or liability to something.

Nonetheless, Mathilda consulted the organiser and then nodded. "But it is just as well. The decorations and renovations will have been completely finished by then. It will be as good as the actual wedding, save for the lack of guests, of course." Worriedly, she peered at them. "Will you both be able to memorise the vows on your own?"

"We will be," Cagalli said valiantly, trying her best to keep her lips from twitching. "We'll think about it while on our holiday as well. As often as we can—it will occupy every free moment that we have. We'll rehearse even—," She paused, exchanging a glance with Athrun. "— in our sleep."

And Athrun shot her a sly look while Mathilda beamed, clearly approving of Cagalli for once.


End file.
